


Domino

by Miss_Murdered



Series: Domino Arc [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence, bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 95,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/pseuds/Miss_Murdered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After pushing Heero and the other former Gundam pilots away, Duo finds himself joining a specialist undercover Preventer unit. When a dangerous gang on L2 threatens Quatre's life, Duo has to face the past to stop a potential terrorist attack and reunite with a former ally. 1x2</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Walk Away

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'
> 
> A/N: This was the fic I came back to Gundam Wing fandom with and started writing this about a year and a half ago. I wanted to get all my fics onto here as well as ff.net so I am adding this here. There are things I would change as I think I've grown as a writer since I started this fic but I am posting as it is rather than going through the process of editing to correct some of the tense issues etc. 
> 
> ELLE beta'd from chapter 20 so the mistakes prior to that are all my own.
> 
> Each chapter is inspired by a song and the title was taken from Coheed and Cambria's Domino the Destitute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Domino the Destitute by Coheed and Cambria

**Chapter One**

**Don't Walk Away**

The bow tie felt like it choked me from the moment I put it on. I'd loosened it, leaving it open, before the official photographs and I could feel the annoyed look of Quatre as I stood with the other three briefly before finding the waitresses with the trays of champagne. I felt him follow me but before he did, there were microphones in his face and eager news reporters asking about the future of the Winner Corporation. It seemed I'd caught a lucky break. Suppose I might as well get drunk.

I was here in protest and I suppose my dark mood and inability to "play along" showed that. A swanky Relena thrown party to celebrate peace was not my bag but I was here. I wanted to snort into the champagne, I was here but old soldier boy was not. Didn't seem right. He was very conspicuous by his absence, the four of us looking odd during the photo call, the four of us having little to say to each other, Quat, looking over at me with a vague look of disappointment. It was all wrong, we were five former Gundam pilots, not four and it looked worse as Relena was dateless and at least he would've served that function in public. I walked over to the bar and put down the empty champagne glass.

A pretty young girl with pixie hair was serving behind the bar.

"What can I get you?"

"Bourbon on the rocks."

"Right away."

I watched as she got the drink, leaning against the bar.

"Bit early for that, Maxwell?"

I turned to see Wufei's black eyes.

"Only way to get through these," I shrugged, thanking the girl and taking a sip.

Good stuff. Wouldn't expect less from the Queen of the World, but you know, my tastes were usually much cheaper.

"Quatre asked you to keep an eye on me?"

"No, this is me keeping an eye on you."

My eyes ranged over Wufei. He looked comfortable in the penguin suit, the tie done straight, the shirt nicely starched and his hair sleeked. He looked like he could belong here.

"Thanks but I'm not going to embarrass anyone, you know. I'll enjoy the free bar and I'll leave early – no trouble."

"Hm," he grunted.

"Great conversation, 'Fei, but I'm going to do a circuit and show my face so I can get outta here."

I patted him on the shoulder and walked away, scanning the room for familiar faces. I saw Relena currently surrounded by a bunch of older men – politicians at best guess, and was glad. Didn't want to talk to her – she was still devastated over Heero's vanishing act and I guess she'd want to discuss it. I didn't want to. She'd paid me some expenses to go look for him, I'd taken her cash and came back with jack shit. She thought he would respond to me, suppose it was cute that she was unaware of what had gone on between us, but I was probably the worse person to go after him. I had ways to find people and I had ways of not being discovered while I got close to someone. Heero knew how I did things, how my brain worked and where I would look and who I would ask. He could cover his tracks. If he didn't want me to find him, I never would. It was nearly six months since he took off and I'd looked for him so many damned times – now I'd given up. Screw him.

I chatted with Sally being among the few familiar face at the fancy shindig and she asked how I'd been, her tone suggesting she knew more about Heero's no show than she was letting on and maybe more about why I wasn't interested in being here. I said I was thinking about college, I said I didn't want to join the Preventers, I talked but my mind was elsewhere. I excused myself and walked out of the glass doors down towards the gardens. I found a spot, a beautiful spot where you could see the gardens stretching out into the distance and sat down. The grass was damp, the night sprinklers must have been on recently but I didn't care. The monkey suit would be thrown away. It wasn't me.

I drank the rest of the third bourbon and put the square glass down on the grass beside me, drew up my knees to my chest, grabbing the lighter from my pocket and the pack of smokes. It was a bad habit, I grant you that, but it was a comfort thing. I was out my depth at this party and this was my excuse to get out.

I lit the cigarette and I heard the quiet footsteps approach behind me. I smiled wryly. Should've known.

"Those things will kill even Shinigami."

"Guess so," I said as he sat beside me. "Can't persuade you to have one, Quat?"

He shook his head, his blonde hair shining under the moon light. He looked picture perfect in his own suit. I remembered saying to Heero that I always thought that Quatre was the best of us, you know. He was the one who hadn't lost himself entirely and still had some inherent… goodness, in him after all the shit. Heero didn't get it – he never did. He assumed as he wasn't physically as strong or as emotionally tough he should be disregarded. I could feel a bitter smile on my lips. Shit, there you go again, thinking about him.

"No, thanks," he answered.

I took a few drags and stubbed it out on the grass beside me. I guessed he would have strong feelings on second hand smoke. I looked at the view in front of us and waited for him to start talking. Instead he sat in silence as if knowing I would be one to say something first. He knew I wasn't a fan of silence and filled it with meaningless words.

I unfolded my legs and leaned back leaving him sat firmly upright. "You should see this," I said bringing out the lighter from my pocket. It was a small thing - black and green with the imprinted image of Deathscythe on it. I threw it over for him to look at. "Colony merchandise. You can get it in some pretty shitty gift shops – they had them all. Could be a good side line for the Winner Corp."

He looked at it. "They had Sandrock?"

I nodded. "Should've got one for you guys. Didn't have enough dough on me at the time, you know."

Quatre threw it back. I caught it and put it back in my pocket. I could see his baby blues looking closely at me.

"Duo… you just need to ask. I can help."

"No, I'm not having this conversation again, Quat. Leave it."

"But, it's not charity - it's a start up loan."

I sighed again and looked at the stars. I didn't want the money, I still had some accounts with stolen money from the war but I'd get a job at some point. I just needed time and Q wanted me to think more practically – I'd said something a while back about finding a little garage or something in the middle of nowhere and Q had took it to heart. He'd offered me money so many times that it had become a wedge in our friendship. His money and wealth sometimes made him feel bad when he looked at someone like me… raised on the streets, lost everyone who ever mattered to me, who fought, stole and hid. I didn't want him to give me cash to make him feel better, it stung my pride and I wanted to earn money – not be some lazy asshole who didn't deserve it.

"Quat, please. No more of this shit. It's not helping."

"Duo, I just want to help you."

"Yeah, you keep saying that."

I rose to my feet, grabbing the glass with the intention of taking it back to the house before making my exit. I could feel the effects of the alcohol on standing – it wasn't like I was drunk but I was well on the way. I walked quickly knowing he would follow, I could see as I approached that both Trowa and Wufei were outside seemingly sick of the party. They seemed to be talking but their eyes were in our direction. I guessed who they were talking about. I was getting sick of this – they all seemed to think I was going off the rails since Heero's disappearance.

"Duo, stop."

I stopped turning round to look at Quatre. He was looking all concerned and pleading. My words flew out of my mouth before thinking. Contrary to popular belief I usually think before I speak – I may talk  _a lot_ and some of it may well be irrelevant and pointless but usually I think about the words I'm saying. This time, I didn't.

"Quatre, you can't buy my friendship like you bought Trowa."

It was harsh - I could tell it had crossed a line that I could not step back from. He looked hurt. It felt like I'd kicked a puppy. I knew that it would hurt as Quatre wanted to be perceived as more than his money and there I go, reducing him to no more than that. I also made a judgement on a relationship I had no business judging. I could tell that Wufei and Trowa knew this was getting bad as they now walked over to us.

"Push me away, Duo," he said. "Push me away like you pushed Heero."

I saw red. The glass ended up at his feet, smashed into pieces. I had targeted it more directly at him but I guess the bourbon had disrupted my usually accurate aim. Suppose it was a good thing.

"Repeat that."

I could hear myself. The words sounded really harsh. Damn, I could be nasty piece of work but seemingly Quatre didn't care. He stepped forward.

"Push me away… push me away like you pushed Heero."

My arm jerked and I realised that Wufei was holding me back. Trowa had stepped forward, placing his body between the two of us and whispered something that I could not hear in his beau's ear. Quatre touched him on the arm in a gesture to move him to one side. Damn, Q, guess I know who wears the pants in that relationship.

"No, Trowa. I'm sick of not saying what he needs to hear. I'm sick of pretending that we need to protect him because we're worried about what he'll do."

I shrugged Wufei's arms off me. He let me go but didn't move away. I looked over to the party. Nobody was watching and nobody was missing us. Figured. We were an image, a figurehead and nothing else.

"Heero left because of you. He needed you and you pushed him away."

I shook my head. "You don't know anything, Q, you really don't."

"Yes, I do… Heero wanted something and you were the one that understood him. And you let him down…"

"If you think you knew so much, Quatre, tell me what was going on between us," I said, hearing my voice sounding a little loud and a little strained. "Tell me because I sure as hell didn't know… if it was beyond fuck buddies, he never let me know."

Quatre flinched at the term fuck buddies. I could feel all three sets of eyes on me and I made my decision. I turned away from Quatre eyes and started to walk away.

"Don't run away, Duo, come back."

I turned and flashed a grim smile. "You know me, Quat, I run, I hide…never tell a lie."

"Is this how it ends between us? You pushing us all away?"

I turned back to look, slowly walking backwards as I did. "Q, the way I see it, you'd never know me if there hadn't be a war."

It seemed he didn't have anything to say to that.

And I turned back round. He didn't try and stop me this time. I left avoiding speaking to anyone, not giving a damn what it looked like or where I was going. I waited by the valet for them to bring the old battered motorbike I'd "borrowed" and started it up without looking back, not caring about the fact I was over the limit as I suddenly felt quite sober.

The last image I was left with was Quatre, head bowed, Trowa's hand on his shoulder and Wufei stood alongside them but separate. It was quite the image and one that seemed burned in my head as I drove away. Yeah, keep running, I thought to myself, keep running and never look back.

 


	2. Racing Rats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Racing Rats - Editors

**Chapter Two**

**Racing Rats**

The bar was full with of a young and pretty crowd. It was a college town so it was a college crowd – first time away from mom and pops and drinking everything in sight. They didn't ID here – I'd not even bothered bringing out the fake driving license with a new fake name – so I just sat at the bar, drank beers and watched the band playing. They were a bunch of guys playing old covers but they were good. They diverted my attention as I felt alone and out of place. I came to places like this once I got fed up of my own company but it was one of those things that I was more lonely among all these people than if I'd just stayed in the motel – go figure.

The people around me always seemed so much younger than me though I was younger than them – they looked carefree, ready to have fun and drink and screw. All real simple for them. The band finished their set and I turned to the now empty beer. I looked at it and thought about going – really, I was a depressing or angry drunk. Neither were fun. But then I'd go back to that room and it would be another town, another message to Heero that he'd have ignored and I'd be back to packing up my go bag and leaving.

"Want another, buddy?" asked the bartender.

"Sure," I nodded, grabbing some bills from my pocket and paying the guy. He was cute but I wasn't looking.

I took a sip of the beer. Since Heero's amazing disappearing act and my own fall out with the others, I'd travelled around the Earth Sphere and the colonies in a useless attempt to find Heero. We'd had codes during the wars, we'd had recognisable fake names used to check into motels and I'd always left him a way to find me and he'd done the same. It was as near as we got to having something loving – you know, he knew I was there for him and I knew I could find him when I needed him. It had worked.

Each time I landed somewhere, I scouted around, did some research and then checked into scummy motel and set up my laptop to see if anything had been flagged under his alias' I was aware of and saw nada. He really didn't want me to find him. So I started reaching out to him, hell, I even checked in under Heero Yuy on a few occasions as bait. Nothing happened, same old, same old… I had successfully managed to push him away, bravo, asshole.

It was about time to give up – I'd pushed away everyone who gave a shit so now it was time to work out who I wanted to be next. I took another sip of beer. When you've managed to make Quatre hate you, you really have acted like an idiot. Maybe I'd grow up a bit – maybe after these months of searching and drinking and being an ass would be useful.

Naw, am pretty sure I'm the same idiot. I finished the bottle and was about to leave, putting my leather jacket back on when a pretty girl suggested I had another.

And that turned into another… I was pretty trashed by the time I decided to venture back to the motel, walking slightly unevenly. I was talking to myself, I could hear myself and hear that I was being an obvious drunk and thought they I looked like a target to be mugged. I hoped that my jeans with the holes around the knees and faded black band tee made me look like I had no money. If someone mugged me, the only thing I had that was worth any dough was the leather jacket and I think I'd probably ending up knifing someone if they tried to take it. Yeah, still carried around a knife.

I'd been talking to some girl in the bar and she'd asked where my friends were – and I'd laughed, didn't really feel like I had friends and I told her a bit of the sorry story of yours truly and a certain other hot shot pilot. Not the details but bits and pieces. It made a heart breaking tale. And then I'd drunk more alcohol and now was more the buzzed. I didn't usually let myself get like this – it was stupid to do it alone in a strange place. I was ranting. About  _him._ I knew it was as I stumbled to the motel and managed to get the key out from my pocket.

"Damn, stupid, fucking thing…" I said grumpily as I dropped the key on the floor. My head spun as I tried to pick it up feeling a little bit sick. Stupid, stupid Duo.

I managed to grab the key and stand, a bit suddenly and it made my head spin but I then actually managed to achieve putting the key in the lock.

"About fucking time," I said to myself. I  _so_ shouldn't drink.

I looked behind me, feeling like I suddenly heard something. I was suddenly slightly more sober as I looked to see the parking lot around me. I reached for my pocket and the flick knife I'd carried around for years but then I saw a cat – a little cat. Well done, Shinigami, about to kill a kitty cat because you managed to get too drunk to function properly.

I continued ranting myself as I opened the door and got through the door to see the room pretty much as I left it. But it was pretty much. My brain was foggy but as I closed the door, I knew that it was not quite right. I brought out the flick knife and reached out to turn the light on. Even in my drunk state, I knew there were very few people who would try to find me or try to get into my room. My heart was beating faster and my mouth engaged before my brain.

"Heero?"

My hand reached the switch and I could see. Nope, not Heero.

"No," he said quietly.

Wufei was sat in a Preventer uniform, his arms folded across his chest and his black eyes studying me in a very detailed fashion.

"Shit, 'Fei, what the hell you doing here?"

"I believe they call this an intervention,"

I raised my eyebrows. "An intervention?"

"When someone is acting without regard to their own well-being, friends step in to tell the individual that they are being an idiot and persuade them to sort out their life."

"Lovely speech, 'Fei but I'm quite happy the way I am," I said walking towards the bed and dropping down on it. The room span a little now I'd stopped moving. "Though I do feel sick…"

He made a noise of disapproval in response. I flipped him – my levels of maturity know no bounds. "Oh shit…" I said, dragging myself to my feet and to the bathroom, passing him to throw up.

I hadn't thrown up in years and felt particularly sorry for myself as I did. I heard him enter the bathroom, turn on the light and I felt a hand pull my braid away from the bowl as I retched. An image I think I could never forget – Wufei pulling my hair back as I threw up. I sat up as I finished and he had passed me a glass of cold water.

"Drink," he instructed.

I did as I was told. I handed it back empty and he filled it and gave it back. I finished half of it this time and pushed my bangs from my sweaty forehead.

"Thanks, mom," I said sarcastically and got shakily to my feet.

"You should go to sleep – Maxwell, I have a lot to talk to you about but I feel perhaps, this is not a good time."

"Sure… do what you want…" I slurred, I dragged my body to the bed, throwing myself on it and let myself drift to sleep, still dressed and my boots on my feet. I could hear him sigh, prepared to give up and settle himself for sleep in the other bed.

I woke up with a headache I more than deserved and opened my eyes slightly to see no Wufei. I thought I'd dreamt it until I saw the Preventer jacket was slung over one of the chairs. Figures, maybe gone to find sustenance.

I managed to move my sorry ass to the bathroom and shower and change into some clean clothes before he returned. He arrived back as I was rebraiding my hair and he proceeded to stare at me puzzled.

"It doesn't magically braid itself," I said, sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed and stopped staring as I secured it with a hair tie. I realised that none of them had ever seen my hair down – not even Heero. He'd always been oddly fascinated with my hair but he knew it was an unspoken thing – he never tried to get it loose, I would have probably tried to break his nose if he had.

He handed me coffee and I drank it gladly. Black and strong. He remembered how I took my coffee, I looked over as he produced food. There was some fruit and some bagels. Healthier than I would have picked after the amount of drinking but it would soak up what remained of the alcohol. I turned on the television as we ate, feeling slightly self-conscious of him. He looked assured, grown up and I was in a band tee and hung over. I felt a lot younger than him. He'd obviously managed to work out how to live after the war. We were never the best of buds but I had a respect for him, he was a good guy and though he teased me and called me idiot, I usually deserved it at those times.

"So… an intervention? I thought everyone you knew turned up and told you how much of an asshole you were."

"Perhaps intervention is the wrong word. I wanted to stop you from the life you've been living the past few months. If Yuy does not want to be found, you will simply keep hurting yourself if you continue to try."

I swallowed. It made sense. He didn't want to be found so why was I still trying? Perhaps because when I did, he would understand me like he used to. Or maybe he wouldn't. Damn, how the hell did I know? I barely knew the guy when I was with him. The distance of the past few months could have changed him. He might be all grounded and settled. He might be like Wufei and found his place. Shit, I didn't know. His voice distracted me from my own thoughts.

"I also wanted to give you an opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

He nodded and produced an envelope from his duffle, throwing onto the bed beside me. "It's a job offer."

I think my eyes might have popped out a little. "Job offer… for the Preventers?"

I couldn't think of anything more unlikely. I was not Preventer material. I knew that, hell, most people who hadn't even met me would know I was not Preventer material. I was reckless, I worked best alone, I liked things that went kaboom… I wasn't really a Preventer of peace. Duo Maxwell was no pacifist. Plus I was an argumentative son of bitch. Heero could attest to that. Put simply, my personality and general disposition was unsuited to the Preventers. And I was fine with that. Yeah, perfectly fine with it.

"This is a specialist division of the Preventers," he said in explanation.

I raised my eyebrows. "Specialist?"

"You didn't think you would be asked to be a standard Preventer agent?"

"Hell, no – don't think I could wear the suit every day… you know I don't like wearing ties."

He grunted in response and drank some more coffee as I opened the packet. On the front of a file was Asset 002. Flattering. I flicked it open to see a few photographs of myself and a report written about my abilities and temperament. I skim read it but I could see a few important words. Ouch, I could summarise into "does not play with others" and mildly psychotic. I looked up at him. "Really, psychotic?"

He shrugged slightly. "You should read Yuy's."

I snorted in response. "Yeah… add emotionally retarded and self-destructive…among other things…"

I flicked through the pages seeing the job I was being offered. I finally reached the numbers page with a breakdown of salary and benefits. I think my jaw might have dropped.

"You're kidding?"

"I'm being entirely serious. I am here on behalf of Une herself. This is a very specialist department. I think you can understand."

"I understand, 'Fei, I really do but this… it's a lot."

"The money compensates you for the lifestyle you will have to adopt. You understand what this type of work will mean?"

My eyes drifted around the motel room. I understood enough but what did I have to give up? I'd pushed away everyone I gave a damn about. People like Hilde and Howard would take me back but you know, I was being a fuck up and it was probably time I faced that.

"It means Duo Maxwell is dead," I said.

Wufei nodded. "We could arrange your death if you would prefer people to think that."

"Naw, don't bother, who cares now?"

He looked ready to answer but I held my hand up. "It was a rhetorical questions, 'Fei, I know there are people who might like closure, but you know, I'd feel bad if they knew I was dead. Seems a bit… cruel, you know."

There was a silence in the room as I flicked through the file thoroughly.

"So… it's all off the official record."

"Yes. I will be your handler. No other agent will contact you or communicate with unless I have specified. It is to protect you and the Preventers."

"Don't want it getting out that you've got a psychopath working for you, do ya?"

"That's not the reason, Maxwell and you know that. It would be bad press for the Preventer agents to be engaging with this type of criminals and you will be granted a level of discretion regarding your actions."

"Discretion?"

"If it is necessary to kill someone, you can do it."

"It doesn't sound very… peaceful."

"Sometimes extreme solutions are needed."

It seemed all a bit extreme but who was I to talk? I knew that since the war, the crime levels had spiked due to a lot of ex-soldiers who had no work and an overflow of anger. The major changes in politics had caused some small terrorist cells to emerge and the chaos of this had allowed more garden variety crime to flourish. Drugs, guns, prostitution, all that shit had become prominent and the Preventers were struggling to deal with it. I'd not had my head up my ass all the time I'd been messing around the last few months. Just most of it. I read the papers. Saw the news. I knew stuff was bad in already deprived areas. Places like L2. Like inner cities.

"Is this a limited time offer?"

"I want a decision today."

I looked back at the file. There were a list of organisations and gangs that were considered threats to peace. Cute term.

"I've got a condition."

"Duo, this is not the sort of offer that allows conditions."

"Hear me out, 'Fei. The job sounds good, the money sounds awesome, you know, but I don't want to go to L2. Send me to any other colony – any city or shitty little town but not back to L2."

"I'd have to talk to my superiors."

"No, 'Fei, I don't care what your superiors say. I want to ask  _you_  as a former comrade, whether you would not make me go back to the place where I hated most. I am asking you… as a friend."

He blinked. I'm sure the reports they'd done on my background said it all. I wasn't about to tell him the whole sorry tale… I'd never told a soul the whole thing but I bet he knew enough.

"I will promise."

"You know a promise is a big thing… you know, with your honour and everything."

I offered my hand which he took and we shook. "Right, now you've got yourself a new specialist undercover Preventer field agent. What next?"

"Pack, Maxwell. We have a field office to visit and new identities to create."

I packed up, looking back at the sad motel room and handed back my keys to the clerk in the office as 'Fei started up his black SUV. She smiled at me, a cute young girl, as I handed it back.

"Hope you had a nice stay, Mr Yuy."

I smiled a little as I left and felt a little lighter. I wasn't going to look for him anymore – I was moving on. And I didn't look back as I got into the black SUV.

New start and all.

 


	3. No Sleep Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - No Sleep Tonight - Enter Shikari

**Chapter Three**

**No Sleep Tonight**

I grunted as I was pushed hard against cop car face first. My hands were in front of me as a hand ran down my legs checking for weapons and chubby fingers made quite the fuss over getting the flick knife out of my jeans pocket.

"You'll have to pay if you want more than that, motherfucker."

The cop pushed my face into the car. Hard.

"Shut up, punk."

He grabbed my arms harshly behind my back and put cuffs on tight before turning me round. I could feel a little bit of blood trailing from my nose from the impact but knew it wasn't broken. The cop was looking quite satisfied at his silencing me, knowing the bracelets were digging into my skin and the blood running down my face was his fault. He was short and middle aged. Probably had no idea who the fuck he was dealing with.

I spat at him.

In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest thing as I got the full force of the back of his hand against my face and then a hand round my throat – forcing me back against the car. I could've fought the guy but as I looked around the whole block around the warehouse building was surrounded by cops and my former gang mates were being rounded up. I'd seen one of the kids get shot as he'd attempted an escape. I wasn't  _that_  stupid.

"You know what they do to guys like you in prison… pretty boy." The guy's eyes bulged and he'd gone a kinda weird shade of purple as he spat out the words in my face. The words pretty boy he'd particularly enjoyed. "Now get in the fucking car."

And get in the fucking car I did, my hands painfully behind my back as we drove to local precinct. The city was like anywhere else I'd worked over the past three years. There was a good part then there was a bad part. I never saw the good part. Go figure. I looked out of the window as we drove deciding to keep my mouth closed for the time being as I wasn't quite sure whether I'd seen any Preventer agents. It worried me. All these busts had local police involved but they also had Preventer supervision. I'd not seen any familiar jackets as the cops broke in the warehouse at dawn and started picking up the crew – and found some surprising evidence. That room. I shuddered slightly thinking about it.

"Cold sweetheart?"

"Don't call me sweetheart, dickwad," I answered back.

"They'll all be calling you sweetheart in prison. Don't you worry."

I felt like sticking my tongue out but decided it was a little childish even for me. These cops thought I was a gang banger so prison would be the next step but damn, if only they knew. It was me who did the recordings. It was me who hacked into the records. It was me that found this bunch of street punks had been bankrolled by important men and big organisations. And it was me who was in the back of a cop car. Fuck. It would nice to be a hero again for a change.

But this was the nature of undercover work. I was booked, photographed, finger prints taken and shoved in a cell on my own in the row of holding cells that were being filled by the assholes I'd been working with. The cuffs had been released but there was a small amount of blood where they'd dug in. Motherfuckers.

It was a few hours before I knew anything else. I was dragged into an interrogation room, my hands cuffed again this time in front of me and left with two detectives.

The first one threw a file on the desk in front of me. I looked at the guy. Mid to late thirties. Wedding ring. Sandy blond hair. Tanned. Probably had kids. In my mind, he was good cop. Then I looked at the other. Shorter. Bald. Beer gut. No wedding ring. Bad cop.

I looked at the file and then back at the two men.

"What's that?"

"Your file Zack."

I raised my eyebrows. It was thick and had my current undercover name in big capital letters on the front. I'd kinda like this one – Zack Wilde felt like it could suit me, at least temporarily. And I didn't forget it which was always a bonus. The file had a full history of criminal activities dreamed up my handler and his team. The good cop started leafing through it.

"Breaking and entering… arson… grand theft auto… aggravated assault… it's quite the criminal career for someone who's only nineteen."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Call it my vocation."

"Call it whatever, Zack, no more juvie – you're a big boy now. This time there's no avoiding prison this time."

I suppose if this had been my real life this would be the point when I would look scared – being as I was, far, far too pretty for prison but I just looked back cockily.

"Maybe I get a good lawyer."

"How would scum like you get a good lawyer?" asked bad cop.

"You know the business we were in… I got a shit load of dirt on a shit load of people. Blackmail can be a real bitch."

"If you know something Zack, you should tell us now, it could save you prison time," said good cop trying to be, you know, nice and helpful and shit. He sounded kinda genuine but I was sick of the whole charade. Just get me outta here.

"Why should I? It ain't gonna stop me going to prison."

"It could reduce your time."

"Fuck it, I ain't talking to you until I get a phone call."

"Why do you need a phone call? All your  _friends_ are in custody."

Yeah, I thought, why the fuck would I want them, idiot? I wanted to call Wufei and find out where the hell he was. I was sat here playing and he was god knows where.

They threw me back in the cell as I stopped co-operating and I glared darkly and decided to give up on the Preventers. Fuck I was fried after this last undercover. I'd barely slept in four months – I'd slept on the floor of a warehouse with thieves and whores and liars. I felt like I'd slept with one eye open and I was exhausted. Sat on the bunk in the cell was actually the most comfortable I'd felt in all that time. I was alone and it wasn't like I was going to be knifed or rushed or whatever. It had been a pretty awful place. And it had been big. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the cold wall. My mind drifted to the little rooms in the warehouse. All those kids. All those goddamn eyes.

Fuck. I knew what had happened to them. Fuck, I'd helped as I collected my evidence. They'd looked at me the same way as the other assholes. Only Jamie had known I wasn't like the others. And Jamie got sent away.

The level of collusion went to corrupt politicians and big companies. Rich old men making money outta poor kids who thought they were getting fed and looked after. Not a life of drug trafficking or worse. I thought of those I'd seen – kids from the colonies shoved onto shuttles, kids from poor cities on buses and brought to the warehouse. They always kinda looked the same. Scared, yeah, but wide eyed and dirty. Fuck. They'd just seen me as one of the guards, one of the "enforcers" as we'd been called, a gun in my hands and shouting at them. Jamie didn't – the kid was sharp. He'd noticed I wasn't as harsh as the other guys and didn't ask for any favours. Shit. Poor kid.

My dark thoughts were spinning round my head and I tried to close my eyes. This had been the worse. Of all of the undercover ops, this one had been the pinnacle of shitty. And now I was in a prison cell wondering if the Preventers were ever going to come and extract me. Maybe it would be prison before they got me. I suppose I'd have ended up there if I'd never been a Gundam pilot. Heh, probably did worse shit in one day than all the inmates in a prison.

I started to drift off as I heard the sound of raised voices down the corridor.

"This is not Preventer jurisdiction! The kid stays with us…"

The voice sounded like good cop. I opened my eyes, unfurled my limbs from underneath me and approached the bars trying to see if I could see anything. Nope, nothing but I could hear the familiar voice responding.

"He is on the Preventer watch list. We are taking custody of him."

"You can't! He's got information pertinent to the case."

"Then the Preventers will provide you that  _pertinent_  information. Would you like to speak to Commander Une?"

I chuckled. Nobody fucking wanted to talk to Une. Good cop seemed to get it – you didn't need to know Une from her crazy days to know that the very head of the Preventers was not someone you wanted to cross.

"No, go ahead Agent-"

"Chang," he replied sternly.

The conversation seemingly over and the battle won, he appeared outside the cell, flanked by two Preventer agents I'd never seen. I gave them the once over – the girl looked young, blonde and pretty and the guy was at least mid-twenties. Both walked just behind him as though used giving deference to the boss. I often wondered what his team thought of him. I often imagined him the type to throw staplers at people.

He didn't say anything as he glared at me through the bars. His eyes drifted over my face to the bruises and blood that said everything about my little altercation with the cops. I could see he was appraising me, trying to work out my mental state from my stance and he raised one eyebrow at me as the good cop appeared to let me out.

I knew what he wanted me to do. Time for the one man show, ladies and gentleman.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"This is Agent Chang – you're off with the Preventers."

"No fucking way. I'm staying here. You said less prison time," I looked pleadingly at the cop as he came into the cell to put on another set of handcuffs.

I didn't let him handcuff me. Instead, I lashed out and punched good cop, sending him flying and allowing Wufei to "apprehend me". The punch had been pretty hard as good cop landed on the floor and rubbed the back of his hand over his bleeding mouth. I felt bad for the guy. He was only doing his job but if I was on the Preventer wanted list I at least had to look a bit of a badass.

Wufei came into the cell, pushed me hard against the wall and grabbed my arms getting them behind my back. I smirked.

"You know, Agent Chang, you could've just asked if you're into bondage."

He made a noise of disapproval in his throat that was almost growl like as he snapped the cuffs on me though less tight than the previous assholes. I couldn't tell if I thought I was playing my role too well or he was playing his too well. Whichever, he was kinda pissed. And his mouth was just at my ear.

"Careful, Maxwell."

He grabbed my cuffed hands tightly as the good cop rose to his feet.

"You can see, detective, why the Preventers need to take him to custody," Wufei said smoothly.

"You can have the little shit," the cop spat, his mouth bloody.

Wufei pushed me forward, his hands were vice like on my left arm and I bowed my head a little as we passed the other cells of my former gang mates. They all looked at I was led away by Preventer agents, maybe wondering why I was getting the special treatment. I didn't look back, keeping my eye line on my boots and trying to look like this was the worst possible outcome for me. We didn't say anything as he signed transfer of prisoner custody papers and when he pushed me into the back seat of a large black Land Rover with a little more force than was necessary. The guy agent got in beside me as Wufei climbed into the driving seat and the chick into the passenger side. In fact, we didn't speak at all until he started the car and drove away from the police station.

"You look like shit," he said.

"Thanks, 'Fei."

"That's fresh blood."

"I got a little fresh with my arresting officers."

"Duo," he said sternly

I hated it when he said my name in that way. I kinda always accepted him getting pissy at me and calling me Maxwell but the way he could say Duo sometimes was as though he was disappointed in me. It seemed he'd hoped I'd been a good boy and co-operated. He knew I was not good with authority especially not cops who were getting some kind of perverted pleasure out of beating a street punk.

"You didn't see the asshole. He was feeling me up."

"You were undercover in a sex and drug trafficking business, he might have thought you were goods."

I kicked the seat knowing it wasn't sensible as he was driving and he slammed the breaks on the car.

"Fuck you," I said with as much venom as I could manage.

He turned round in the seat so that his face was nearly level with mine, his black eyes staring straight into mine.

"Yes, you have fucked me, Duo. You don't have to do the paperwork. You were being violent and reckless for no reason. You just had to wait for extraction and you can't even do that."

He turned back in his seat as a car starting beeping behind us and his lecture was over. The car started moving.

"Whatever… at least get me outta the cuffs. I'm sick of being a criminal."

"Murphy."

It seemed the guy agent was Murphy as he gestured for me to turn a little and he undid the cuffs. Wufei's cuffing had been more gentle but there was still some blood. I rubbed it on the black t shirt as I sat back on the seat and did my seatbelt up like a good boy. Yeah, I knew why he was pissed. He would have to explain the actions of Asset 02 and justify them. Discretion, my ass. Yeah, I had discretion to break as many laws as I liked during missions but it came with a price tag. Reports, debriefings, psychological testing and men in white coats. I'd come to hate that part.

It was always a series of guys with beards and notebooks asking me how I felt. How did I feel about my missions? I felt wiped out by them. They'd steadily got worse over the three year period and I'd seen and done too much to sleep properly. One psychologist gave me pills. I threw them down the toilet. One suggested therapy. I snapped at the poor guy.

"How the fuck can I go to a therapist? I'm either invisible or someone else."

"How do you feel about being invisible or someone else?" he responded.

I rolled my eyes at him and managed to not walk out on the rest of the session. Mainly because I thought of Wufei's blood pressure. I'm sure after every extraction, I caused trouble for the guy and I knew that he was very forgiving for any erratic behaviour. He also knew where he was sending me and knew what I saw and what I had to do.

Wufei did the debriefs usually with another superior Preventer. I never knew the names of the series of people. It was never anyone I was familiar with and the Preventer agents all seemed to blend into one homogenous mass of people who wrote quickly on notebooks as I spoke. Wufei was always kinda… gentle on me at these times. After an extraction I was usually pretty raw and didn't want to be hounded – he led me through it with encouragement and small smiles. I'd come to really respect the guy but sometimes thought, well, I could never tell if it was my imagination or not, that he perhaps had a little look in his eye that suggested more. It wasn't at first, it just kinda happened. A hand on my arm for too long. He looked at me for a little too long when we sat talking. He laughed at a joke during the debriefs. I shook my head. It was a bad time to think about it as the car stopped outside a hotel in the nice part of town.

It was then that I noticed it was a beautiful day. I rarely saw days in my line of work – gang work was always at night and I'd been arrested so early in the morning that I hadn't known that the sun was shining and it was a crisp but warm fall day. Wufei looked at me and the wounds on my face and the tell-tale sign of handcuffs round my wrists and threw over his Preventer jacket.

"Wear it until we get into the hotel," he said to me. "Murphy, Alex – go park the car away from the hotel in case the cops are suspicious."

"Yes, Agent Chang."

They almost said it in fucking unison. I tried to decide whether they were well trained agents or just scared of the boss. I bet they were scared of the boss.

I hopped out of the car and put the jacket over my t shirt. I followed him through the lobby and noticed the whole place was fancy. It was the sort of place I didn't like when I was being plain old Duo never mind the months I'd spent as a street thug. Damn, Wufei was getting important if the Preventers were paying for this. We got into the elevator and for the first time in months I relaxed fully.

"Thanks 'Fei," I said quietly.

He looked at me, a small smile on his face. "It's my job."

The elevator pinged and 'Fei walked along the plush corridor until he pulled out a card and we entered a pretty fancy looking suite. I think my eyes popped out a little. I'd not seen a place like this for so fucking long. It reminded me of Quatre's places – all beautiful furnishings and comfortable beds. I walked in as Wufei seemed to do some kind of check and then dead bolted the door behind us.

"Welcome back to civilisation," Wufei said. "There are clean clothes, new identity papers and a new laptop in the bag."

"If there's hot water that's all I need right now. I haven't had a hot shower in months."

"Go ahead."

I grabbed the duffle bag and walked over to the bathroom as Wufei flipped open his phone and walked over to the balcony, opening the full length glass doors and stepping out. I watched him for a second as he dialled and then I entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill the room as I opened the go bag.

There was enough. I felt bad for a second as I threw off the outfit I'd been wearing to put on a clean grey t-shirt, dark jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. I quickly looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like hell. I wiped away the remains of the blood and then looked further in the bag for a knife I hoped he would've brought me as I felt for the slight bit of raised flesh at the back of my neck. No knife. Fuck it. I knew I could get away unnoticed by 'Fei and he'd at least try to catch me up but if I still had the embedded tracking chip, then I was only going to get so far. I supposed I could just go to a store and buy some razor blades but I had no time. I had – what five minutes maybe less if he'd got straight through to Une rather than one of her lackeys. I made a decision.

The hotel had glasses by the sink and I smashed it hoping that the sound of the shower and the distance between us would be enough for 'Fei not to hear. As he didn't appear, I got a sharp bit, pulled my braid outta the way, and gouged at where I felt the chip was. It hurt. Like a motherfucker. And I thought I was stupid for one second as the blood poured pretty quickly and got into the hood of the new sweatshirt I'd put on. Not so smart Duo. Not so fucking smart.

The cut was enough that I could feel the small device attached to my skin with synthetic skin. I should've waited to go in – I should've waited for a nice Preventer doctor in a white coat to take it out but all I wanted to do was run. I knew I was being unprofessional and I was risking Wufei's job but damn, I just needed to be away and on my own. I needed a bar. And a good lay. Or something else that wasn't going to be talking about the mission and the kids and whether I was finally cracking after all the jobs and all the shitty missions. I was done. Une could shove it up her ass.

I knew I was being reckless as I pulled the device out with a nice quantity of blood and fake skin attached. Ugh. Not good. I put it in the sink then picked it up again and threw it in the toilet. I flushed it hoping that it wasn't too obvious and hoped that 'Fei was too much of a prude to check me in here. I hoped Une was chewing him out about being unable to control me. I hoped that I wouldn't pass out from blood loss.

I grabbed the bag again and saw a nice quantity of cash among the envelopes with ID docs. I pocketed the cash, decided to take off the blood soaked hoodie as I noticed one item in the bag. My leather jacket. The one I'd worn for years. It was the only possession I gave a shit about and he'd brought it.

I felt bad. I was going to bail on the only person who still cared. I knew he cared. He was the only person from my past who knew I was alive but shit, I still had a little part of me that thought Heero would come back and I was quite happy with flings until I gave up on him totally. Call me romantic. I wouldn't. I'd say it's deranged.

I grabbed a towel and stemmed the blood a little before putting the jacket on and left the laptop on the floor knowing it would be traceable. There would be a tracking chip at least.

I opened the door to see Wufei was still on the balcony, the door only open a little and he was looking away to the city. I breathed deeply and thought for a second the shit he was going to be in. And then I heard his raised voice. Whoever was on the other side of the phone was getting a full Wufei Chang rant. And then I heard my name. And then something else.

"He's not ready for L2, he's just been extracted from a very intense undercover… I could send Yuy."

My heart stopped. He could send  _Yuy_. Then he turned and saw me stood in the doorway ready to leave and he stopped dead, mid rant, and looked at me. I think he went pale. He dropped the phone, it clattering to the floor at his feet, unbroken. I could hear the female voice on the line shouting "hello" in a small tinny way.

"Duo…"

"Heero? You work with Heero as well?"

"I couldn't tell you. It was to protect both of you."

"Since when?"

"That's confidential."

I'd dropped the bag and my hands were balled into fists, my fingers clenched so tight that I could feel my finger nails pushing in and blood started to flow. It was probably the last thing I needed in the shittiest day from hell, but damn, I knew it would make me feel better if I just punched him. I didn't. He was technically my boss, you know, I do have some sense.

"Since when?" I repeated.

"Since after the war."

"So when I was…" I wanted to finish the sentence and say "being an asshole" but I didn't.

He nodded.

"You knew that I'd never find him because he was undercover."

"Yes."

"And he never knew I was trying to find him."

"He was deep in a military terrorist cell who were trying to reconstruct a mobile suit army for the first year."

The first year… the months when I'd try to find him. He didn't even fucking know I was trying. Shit. He approached me as my eyes looked to the floor and I backed away.

"Don't touch me, 'Fei. Don't try."

I looked into his eyes and he stepped back a little. I'm guessing I looked full Shinigami at the moment – that's his problem, shouldn't have employed me when I was already kinda crazy and then let me see the worst of humanity for all this time.

"It wasn't my decision to keep you apart."

"What? So it was Une's and the Preventer brass?"

"It was decided you acted too recklessly around each other. It was in your reports."

"So it was in the fucking reports? That makes it  _so_  much better!"

He stopped realising his very reasonable arguments were not going to work in the state of mind I was in.

"Does Heero know?" I asked very quietly.

"No. He thinks you're dead."

I felt winded. He might as well have punched me in the gut. He thought I was dead. And shit, the Preventers had erased every trace of my life electronically and physically. It was impossible to find a photograph of me, it was impossible to find a trace of my name, my known alias' or the slightest bit of information that suggested I'd ever been alive. Even Heero couldn't hack the Preventers. So he thought I was dead... that stung.

"Then I quit. Fuck the Preventers."

"Duo… don't do anything-"

"Stupid? Because if that's what you're going to say, please don't finish your sentence. I kinda feel like doing something stupid. Drinking my own body weight in whisky kinda sounds like a good idea right now."

I picked up the bag, though, a part of me felt really childish and felt I should throw it in his face but instead I walked away. Something I'm good at. I knew he'd find me – he was Preventers after all, but at that moment, I couldn't be in the same room as him. I needed to be on my own. I needed to sleep.

"I hope you don't sleep tonight," I said quietly as I slipped out of door.

I really hoped he didn't.


	4. This is probably the best not to mention the worst idea…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Baby, You Wouldn't Last a Minute on the Creek - Chiodos

**Chapter Four**

**This is probably the best not to mention the worst idea…**

The cup of java tasted good and strong. It was late and it was a twenty four hour café. The waitress smiled at me as she refilled my coffee and I gave a nod and a wink. She was a sweet girl but my German was only passable. Hilde had taught me enough words to get by years ago and I'd barely improved on them in the intervening years. Most of the words I remembered were swear words so no use in polite conversation. Berlin was a great city and I felt a bit guilty for my space boy tourist persona.

I looked out to the rain soaked streets and then back inside. There were very few people around, a teenage couple were sharing pastries and coffee, probably trying to sober up before they caught the train back home. There was an old guy sat on a stool who was reading the paper. Seemed a bit late for the day's news. It was nearly eleven at night. I sat back and saw commercials on the television set before the eleven p.m news programme. There was no sound on but I could guess the main story. It was the same story on front of the newspaper.

The programme began with the usual newsreader and then the image cut to Quatre. It was a press conference regarding the L2 Project. He was looking older and a lot more harassed than last time I'd seen him. He wore a suit and his blonde hair was slicked back a bit more than I remembered. I lip read a little of the announcement.

"A long neglected colony… the support of the Earth Sphere… new technologies…."

I zoned out a little to see Quatre's statement had finished and the press were asking questions. I'd read that the L2 Project wasn't running particularly smoothly and I could see Q look frustrated at one particular question and left the podium.

A spokesperson for the Winner Corporation, a young and beautiful woman, took over the podium and the news cut from that story to something else.

"Still trying to fix everything with money, Q," I said under my breath and took another sip of the coffee.

I was waiting for Wufei like a good boy. It had been three weeks since I'd walked out on him at the snazzy hotel and it had been all of three days after that when I got back in touch with him. I knew he'd be taking heat for my recklessness and I also kinda knew he didn't mean to keep me and Heero apart. I'm guessing it was part of his job, part of his, you know, duty to the Preventers to keep his assets safe and whether that meant keeping us apart, then he'd do that. I'd not tried to find Heero. That was just plain stupid. I knew how my identity had been completely erased and the only way I'd find him was with Wufei's help and I didn't blame him if he never wanted to help me again. After all, I had quit.

I contacted him with my reports because I wasn't an idiot despite all the evidence to the contrary. They needed my reports for prosecution so I wrote them in a tiny, dark hotel room, with a newly acquired laptop smoking out of the window. It hadn't been easy but it felt a lot easier than doing it in the coldness of a Preventer field office or safe house. I typed for two days solid then sent them, closed down the laptop and thought about throwing it out of the window but I kept it knowing I was now traceable and he'd be in touch. And he'd got in touch – asked me where I was, asked me to meet him, wired the sizable pay cheque into one of my bank accounts and I'd held him off for a few weeks. Until now.

I still didn't want to go back. I did mean it. I didn't want another undercover job. I kinda wanted to be plain old Duo Maxwell again. Maybe mend some bridges. Ask Howard for a job. It all sounded like a great plan but then I looked back to the television. Yeah, I thought darkly, he wasn't travelling to Berlin to give me a severance package. I knew why he wanted to see me. Let's get the band back together, one more job before retirement and all that shit. And I remembered that in most cop movies it's always that one last job that gets you killed, ain't it? I shook my head, my bangs in my eyes and stared into the coffee cup.

I could've not contacted him. I could've just disappeared somewhere. But it wouldn't have lasted long, the Preventers knew fucking everything and knew every account, every alias, every goddamn step I seemed to take. I was glad I'd at least got rid of the tracking chip. Least now I wasn't a red dot on a computer screen. When I'd left 'Fei, I'd dumped the ID docs the Preventers had cooked up for me and contacted a guy I'd known while I worked with my last bunch of friendly gang bangers – he provided me with decent docs and I was able to leave the good US of A without sparking a Preventer arrest. Which was good. I'd decided to land in Europe but didn't really care where. I knew to keep away from Sanc but apart from that, the rest of the continent was up for grabs. It ended up being Berlin. And it had been good for me.

My mind drifted back to the present. I'd only been in Berlin for three weeks. Usually my down time was longer and since I'd actually quit, it should be over. I looked over to the television as the news reporter recapped the Quatre story. Yeah, it so wasn't over.

"This seat taken?"

I looked up, a little startled by the man now in front of me. He was always so goddamn quiet. I gave him the once over – no Preventer jacket or identification and then nodded and gestured to the seat. Wufei didn't look like he belonged in a random café in the middle of Berlin but then I found that he never looked like he fit in when he met me. I sometimes wondered if in all the random places we met – the cafés, libraries, bars and the diners – people thought it was kinda weird that a guy with braided hair slouched while a Chinese dude sat ramrod straight and talked. We must've looked kinda odd together.

"Nope, go ahead. The coffee's great here."

"It's eleven at night, Maxwell, surely coffee is an unnecessary stimulant?"

"It's eleven at night – it's a very necessary stimulant."

The cute waitress girl approached and offered coffee. Wufie signalled no and ordered tea in perfect German. Damn, how the hell did he know that? Suppose once a scholar or something like that. She looked at me and gestured to the coffee pot.

"No, no more caffeine – but pie would be good."

Her English wasn't great but she understood me enough to bring 'Fei's tea and me a slice of warm apple pie. Wufei looked disapprovingly at my choice of food but didn't say anything. His body was a temple, I suppose. Surely he knew after the last time I'd seen him that I wasn't going to listen to a lecture. He'd be thinking how I'd not had my medical after the last mission, how I'd left bleeding from removing the tracking chip and how I'd looked like shit. Usually after missions, I stayed at a secret location and was fed nutritionally balanced meals while I tried to gain back weight and muscle density. Working in gangs always meant I didn't sleep or eat properly. I came back skinny. Always did.

He did his usual once over. "You look better."

"Yeah, the down time has done me good – this is an amazing city," I gestured with my fork at the surroundings. You wouldn't get a sense of the city from the café but it was a cool city. And I had put on a bit of weight, I'd found a boxing gym to work out at – I'd done all the things I should do. Just by myself. Small talk done I looked straight him.

"You know I'm not angry at you, 'Fei. I know you were only doing your job."

"I'm glad you understand."

"Though to me, lying doesn't seem that honourable."

It was a little dig but he brushed it off. "It was concealing the truth. Neither of you directly asked."

I shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

We sat in silence for a moment, he looked over to the television which was on commercials. They were currently advertising a sleek looking silver car.

"Are you taking the pills?"

I took a bite of the pie and looked him in the eye. He knew I'd been prescribed them and that there had been a supply in the go bag when I'd taken it. What he didn't know was I'd thrown them down the toilet. They were meant to help me sleep and even out my mood.

"What do you think?"

"I'll take that as a no?"

"'Course, I'm not putting some chemical into my body. My bodies a perfect fighting machine."

He raised his eyebrow at my pie.

"A guy's gotta eat."

It was as though he had a list of things he needed to say as we avoided the elephant in the room. We weren't secure in the café but he must have thought it would be safer to meet me here than in a hotel room. Maybe he was worried I would strangle him. Or something.

"Did you get your pay cheque?"

I nodded. "One payment made by anonymous wire to Drake Noir received."

"Drake Noir… Duo, really?"

"Thought it made me sound like a bad TV detective. Kinda cool, huh?"

He shook his head in despair. He still didn't get my sense of humour. Don't suppose after all this time he ever would as he looked me up and down. He was really studying me, a habit that I'd got used to but still he disturbed me. His face never gave away much – he could be a world champ poker player. He looked at my hand and his eyes narrowed. "Take off your jacket."

"You know you should buy me dinner first before you ask me to strip."

"Duo…" he growled.

"Fine," I said, taking off my trusty leather jacket.

His eyes widened as I threw it on the seat next to me and went back to my pie. I shrugged at him. "What's up, 'Fei?"

"When and what?"

"What?" I said, smiling.

"Those."

"They are tattoos, artwork imprinted into the skin via needles and ink. A culturally significant symbol synonymous with rebellion and crime though more acceptable than they used to be," I said sarcastically, pretending I was reading a dictionary definition.

"Maxwell, they are permanent."

"No shit, Sherlock."

His eyes took in the images, scanning my arm. "They link you as a Gundam pilot."

"They don't… I could just be a fan boy or something."

He looked at me with a level of disapproval I'd expect from my mother, you know, if I'd ever actually had one. I looked back at the television letting him stew for a second. He downed his tea. I didn't expect him to understand and I didn't want him to. I'd decided to get them and that was that. What had he said? Don't do anything stupid. This was my stupid thing. It had taken three sittings and it had hurt like a bitch – I'm man enough to admit it, and I'd been short on time so one bit hadn't healed properly before the guy did the next bit but it looked pretty awesome. A guy at the boxing gym had some great ink and spoke English enough to go with me and help me describe what I wanted to the tattooist – I wanted to call the dude Hans as that woulda amused me but I never caught his name. It was a whole therapeutic exercise – the pain had made me forget – it made me forget the kids and where that cocky son of bitch Jamie ended up and whether I'd fucked it up for the kid for being friendly and where Heero was and whether he thought about me.

Black eyes scanned the whole arm, from the small stars around my wrists, to the black and grey shading that linked the images, the cross, the angel, the silhouette of Deathscythe on the inside of my arm with the only colour being the green of the Beam Scythe. The tattooist didn't give a shit why I wanted what I wanted. I suppose the war was being forgotten.

"You are an idiot," he said finally.

"Noted."

"Fine."

We sat in silence as I finished my pie.

"Look 'Fei, I meant what I said, I quit, I'm done… you've got Heero, you really don't need me."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need you. I would have let you go," he said heavily. "I have orders."

He brought out the manila envelope with the words Asset 02 written on the top. Subtle. Always thought it was stupid I was still 02. Maybe it was just a private thing. My eyes darted around the café. The young couple had gone and the old dude was still reading his paper. The waitress was leaning on the counter texting on her phone ignoring us. I grabbed the manila from him and opened it. The file had some words on the front that made my heart stop for a second.

"No, 'Fei, you promised."

"Duo, it is entirely necessary."

"Then use one of your other  _assets_ , I said not back to L2. Anywhere but back there."

He nodded, remembering the conversations early on. I'd always said not L2. He knew enough to know that my childhood had not been roses and candy. He knew that it had been rough, as had all of us, except Q but he knew that I was particularly adamant about that – no L2.

"I wouldn't be asking if I had another asset capable." He stopped and took a deep breath as though he really didn't want to say what he had to say. "Heero is there now but is unable to integrate into the group. It needs someone who is more… street wise."

"Heero… you want us to work together?"

"Yes."

"So he knows I'm alive?"

"Yes."

My heart did a little somersault thing in my chest. For some reason, it made me feel a lot better that he knew I'd not died in some gutter or whatever he thought had happened to me. He'd probably think I'd done something reckless and got myself killed in a bar fight or something. He always thought I acted a little too recklessly. That I had a death wish or something.

I tried to be, you know, cool and nonchalant but I could hear how my voice sounded as I spoke. "How'd he take it?"

"He punched me."

I chuckled darkly. That was such a Heero thing to do – fists first, questions later. Maybe that meant… fuck it, I honestly didn't know what it meant. "Hurts don't it?"

He only nodded as I peeked into the file as though the pages would burn me and then I saw Q's face.

"The L2 Project?"

"Trowa got in touch with the Preventers recently. Since the L2 Project started moving forward, Quatre has started receiving death threats of a more serious nature."

"Quat's always had death threats, that's nothing new," I said shrugging.

I knew Quatre, as the only visible one of us, was the one that received the death threats and had an extreme level of security. Trowa had taken over his security detail years ago. It made sense, it gave Trowa an excuse to travel with him as their relationship was kept under wraps and Tro understood, like all of us, how the terrorist's minds work. Everyone wins. I couldn't imagine him approaching the Preventers if it wasn't serious.

"So… how bad?"

"There are some examples in the file."

I nodded and flicked through to see a few copies. They seemed to be on a theme. Mostly about leaving L2 alone otherwise… you know, boom!

"They don't seem that bad. Could be written by kids."

Wufei seemed to be losing patience. "It's Winner we are talking about. Could you at least show some respect for someone who fought alongside you honourably?"

"Wow, 'Fei, you haven't pulled the honour card on me in years."

"I am finding you frustrating."

"I noticed."

I flicked through the file, arriving at the information about the gang but the information was sketchy. There were long lens pictures of a few members and the leader – a guy called Dallas. They were based in a rundown area of L2 in a hospital that had been closed for years. The numbers of exact members was anywhere between fifteen and twenty five. All male and mainly early to mid twenties. Some had military training and they had been involved in weapons trading. They seemed to have managed to come by some guns and some explosives. The information was vague.

"Heero doesn't have much."

"Heero is as good as you but unsuited to this work. He had nothing of your… flair. That's why I need you."

I tried not to say anything snarky about me being the better asset for this job. I wanted to joke that I was his favourite but damn, that was a bit childish and also brought to mind the weird feeling I got from him at times. I put the file down. I closed my eyes for a few seconds. I thought about my memories of L2 – the promise I'd made to Solo. No, I was meant to get out and keep running and never look back. Too much shit. And then I thought about Heero. I couldn't stop the little tap dance that my heart was doing but I also felt the dread in the bottom of my stomach. Fuck, he'd thought I was dead for years and it was gonna be like "hey, baby, I'm back!" And I wasn't sure what anything had meant between us. I kinda was okay not seeing him as after all this time undercover I wasn't a hundred percent sure who I was anymore. But Q…

"Fine, I'll do it. Last job though, 'Fei. No more Preventers. No more undercover. You forget me and I forget all of this."

"You have my word."

"Not as good as it used to be but I'll take it."

I think that comment hurt him a little along with all the other little digs I'd made but I kinda thought he deserved the hard time. He passed over another envelope and then rose to his feet, looking around the empty café and put some money down on the table. He put his hand on my shoulder for a second and I looked up at him, straight into the black eyes and he opened his mouth to say something then stopped, and just walked away.

I watched him leave, seeing him pull up his trench coat against the rain and he was visible for a few seconds before he crossed the road and disappeared. I opened the second envelope to find the shuttle tickets, the new ID docs and my new identity. I smirked at the name.

Domino.

It sounded kinda stupid at first but then I looked through the information. I liked to make things fall it seemed. An explosives expert.

I put all the documents and the file back in the envelopes, folded them up and put my jacket on and shoved them into the inside pocket. I put some extra cash on the table – remember, folks, to always tip your waitress – and left to pack my shit back up.

And I wasn't gonna think about Heero.

Fuck it, just did.

 


	5. Running Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Running Free - Coheed and Cambria

**Chapter Five**

**Running Free**

Travelling by commercial shuttle was easy but had its limitations. I was carrying my duffle bag as I handed over my fake Preventer sanctioned ID documents and smiled at the girl behind the counter. Flirting and being charming was a weapon I was very effective at using. It made you seem less scary. Being an ass and a difficult customer usually made you memorable.

The problem with a commercial shuttle was that I was not an official Preventer officer or part of any police organisation that was allowed to carry a weapon. I couldn't carry a gun or my usual flick knife and it meant sitting near civilians. The old dude sat next to me snored in his sleep and I looked out at the darkness of space. I'd hacked into the shuttle company's database after Wufei gave me my shuttle tickets and selected my seat doing brief background searches on the people on board – the old guy was visiting family in the colonies and seemed the best option. He didn't speak to me as I put the hood up of my black sweatshirt and put in my headphones. I looked like a troublesome teenager and it stopped conversation. Heh, being undercover had taught me a lot of tricks. It also hid my hair and it made me look younger.

I slept a little during the flight and then grabbed my duffle and left the terminal quickly. I learned to travel light over the years. My life was all about throwing stuff away anyway – I was never one person for long enough for it to be kept. I suppose the leather jacket counted but that was it. I didn't keep anything else. I bought clothes new most missions and threw out the last lot. I suppose I was wasteful but I wore most of my black clothing until it became an unattractive grey colour and then it wasn't so pretty. I'd learned to be a ghost and after having so many different identities, I was looking forward to being plain old me after this. Work out what I wanted. Hell, I'd earned enough cash working for the Preventers that life would be more than comfortable for me if I didn't want to work. Shit, this must be like Q felt, loads of dough but what the fuck to do with it?

I felt a little more like myself as this cover didn't involve any kinda disguise. The last few hadn't as it was figured I was mostly forgotten now. It was over three and a half years since the war and with no images or video for people to verify my appearance it would be pretty impossible for some to recognise me as a former Gundam pilot. I also had grown up a little, I was taller and not  _quite_ as skinny but I looked pretty much the same. 'Fei always commented on my weight and diet but hell, by now if I could still eat whatever shit I wanted and didn't put on weight, I wasn't going to. A doctor had said it was because of my childhood and then whatever G did to me – I'd grown up scavenging food, guess the lack of nutrition had taken its toll.

My hair was nowhere near as long. That had been the first fight when I'd joined the Preventers. They wanted to cut it, just cut it all off as if anyone had seen me it was the most fucking recognisable thing about me. Despite the fact every image, every little bit of me had disappeared, they still felt that the braid would give me away. I fought for it and damnit, Wufei had fought alongside me. We decided to cut it to about shoulder length. I didn't cut it again after that. For the first year I still braided it even though it was hardly worth it. It now had grown out some but was still not as long as I liked. I knew it was easier shorter for undercover work – it could go under a hat, a bandana or even a wig. But I missed it, you know, I didn't quite feel like me without hair down to my ass.

I'd worn contacts from time to time and prosthetics. Sometimes I wouldn't recognise myself and sometimes it was hard to maintain the identity with all the little things I had to remember – I was on edge every second of an undercover in case something slipped. I'd had so many names… I couldn't remember them all. I'd turn round to someone and think for a second – who the hell am I exactly? And then I'd remember that I'm not me and say the right thing. It was exhausting. And I was sick of it.

This time I was Domino but the whole story was close to my own life. It was easier the closer the identities were to me as I stood less chance of letting something slide or fucking something up. The Domino identity was as near to me as an identity had ever been – orphaned, grew up in street gangs on L2, fought in the war – though for the other team, and then became disillusioned, drifted round the colonies using the explosives knowledge to blow shit up for terrorist cells or gangs for cash. I was being credited with a few terrorist attacks – which was kinda nice. At least in this identity I was good at what I did. I also didn't have a criminal record and no real name. The ID docs I'd been given were Drake Noir. Maybe the Wu-Man had a little sense of humour in there somewhere.

I'd looked over the file over and over again since 'Fei had handed it over in that dinky café in Berlin. I knew I couldn't just join the gang – I had to have something to make them bite. I had to have something they wanted in exchange for a little information and a chance to get close enough to know what they were going to do. The last undercover had been six months and for two of them I'd lived in a shitty one room apartment and engaged in plenty of criminal activities until they noticed me and offered me a cut to be one of their enforcers with the kids. It took time undercover. You had to make people trust you. You had to be believable and pay your dues. We didn't have that. This was all gonna happen in a matter of weeks not months. And I really didn't know how believable Heero was as a street punk.

I exited the terminal, bought a shrink wrapped unattractive looking sandwich from a coffee shop and waited for a bus. I caught one, keeping my hood up and looking like an average young punk as I put my coins in the slot and slunk to a seat by myself. No one joined me. I suppose I gave off the air of street punk. The tattoos helped. Made it more authentic despite 'Fei's reservations.

I watched the good part of L2 drift away – the rich part, the places with the apartments and government buildings and shops. It wasn't long until that disappeared and you get to the streets I grew up on. I tried not to get sentimental – it was a  _long_ time since I'd been here and I wasn't that same kid. I was a war hero, a major fuck up, now a well-paid Preventer agent. Not the same kid that everyone died around. Not that kid…

The bus stopped and it brought me back to the present. I grabbed my duffle and jumped off the bus, not thanking the driver as I was being a punk. You don't thank anybody for nothing. It was getting dark, the colony day cycle starting to turn to dusk and the neon of the seedy part of L2 could be seen brightly. I zipped up the hoodie and held my duffle close to me. I knew there would be plenty of little shits ready to try pickpocketing me – there was nothing worth getting but fluff in my pockets but my duffle had some mission stuff that I needed and my new laptop. No chance of them getting that.

I walked quickly to the rendezvous location that was located in a part of L2 known by the locals as the District. The District was where you could satisfy any vice, girls, boys, girl/boys, drugs, smokes, drink, tattoos, guns, information and shitty food. We'd always tried to avoid the District as kids. It was a bad place and most kids never came back – they ended up being offered some food and then trapped into trafficking drugs or worse, the sex trade. Solo never told me as kid why we never went near… as an adult I was glad that son of bitch had looked out of me. It made me think of those kids in my last undercover. It made me wonder if any of the kids that disappeared when I'd been here ended up in one of those warehouses, terrified, underfed, dirty and ready to be shipped off to some unknown place. It made me shiver.

At night the District was busy, at this time when the cycle hadn't quite gone fully round to night, it looked pathetic as you saw the day dealers hanging around cafes and the day whores stood against walls. It just looked sad. It reminded me of a waiting room with people ready to give up and die. Fucking hated the District. All that was bad about L2.

Wufei contacted me before I got my shuttle to confirm a rendezvous with Heero and an opportunity discuss his progress in the area. I'd scowled at the vidphone in the busy terminal as I checked in for the last contact prior to going under. I just didn't know what to say – yeah, that's awesome, we're gonna be a great team because you know, there's no personal shit between us. I felt vaguely guilty as I thought about Heero – yeah, I'd thought about him plenty over the three year period but I had been with other guys. I'd not been celibate and damn near, I didn't expect or want him to have been either. If he thought I was dead then he had to move on. But then he'd punched 'Fei which maybe that said something. I'd scratched the back of my head as 'Fei talked through the details of the rendezvous and I nodded to confirm I understood. His face was pretty unreadable over the vidscreen but I'm guessing mine showed the swirling emotions.

"Maxwell, it's over three years. You are both different people."

Huh. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. I was not that different. Maybe I found it harder to laugh, maybe I didn't smile a lot anymore, maybe the sense of humour had gone from black to goddamn bleak, but I was pretty much the same.

"Yeah, it's fine. We'll go kick ass together. Be like old times," I said, my voice a bit deep for what was meant to be a light hearted comment.

"Duo," he said, a gentleness in his voice that had freaked me out. "Look after each other."

"You getting soft in your old age? We'll be fine – no hair pulling and shit."

He opened his mouth to respond but I cut him off.

"Shit 'Fei, my shuttle's boarding in like five, man. We'll be fine, we know you're sorry, we'll get the bad guys and I'll see you for a shitty debrief all nice and be a good boy for ya."

"Good luck."

After that I disconnected the line and boarded the shuttle. The conversation was running through my mind as I walked towards the rendezvous location.

Wufei explained Heero was living in the District above an internet café imaginatively named Wired and had been on L2 for nearly three weeks. He'd managed to find out some information and had managed to get himself in the trust of the local gun running gang. That was mainly because 'Fei had managed to secure some old weapons from Preventer busts that he'd been able to barter and sell for some information. It seemed like he'd got somewhere but with the actual gang had hit a brick wall. Couldn't imagine him being charming and well, cool to the kids on L2. Hell, I could barely imagine what he looked like properly anymore. I didn't keep anything with me, remember? I had no photographs, I had jack shit and since even if I'd tried to find traces of Heero (which I had and I figured he'd deleted it himself, go figure) there was nothing, I didn't have anything tangible of what had happened between us. I remembered stuff and some things were clearer than others.

I remembered how blue his eyes were – that stuck with me. I remembered how he could floor me with a look, how he could make his intention damn well clear just by this glint in his eye – intentions that usually ended up with me pinned against a wall, a bed, a floor, a shower – fuck there had been so many times and places that I remembered but I didn't remember how he smiled. I forgot how he looked when he was puzzled when I said something that he didn't get – you know, something that frequently happened. I remembered the sex – that's what'll happen when you're a hormonal teenager but I didn't remember much else. It all blurred together. Then there was stuff I wish I forgot – how wounded and lost he was after the whole Mariemaia shit and how I couldn't deal. How I was a fucking asshole and unable to do anything but push him away. How I thought Relena and the others could put him back together. I remembered saying the words I could never take back. Hates a bitch of word. Be careful with it people and don't say it when you don't really mean it. Especially don't say it to someone who has a puzzling concept of human emotions. Shit. I was the bad guy in this situation and Quat had been right. He'd needed me right then, he'd damn near  _wanted_ me at that point and I'd been too focused on how fucking empty I felt that I didn't see. Maybe it was more than just fuck buddies. Never could work it out.

I sighed deeply as I arrived at Wired and looked inside. The café itself was dark apart from the computer screens and was a complete dump. Its décor was cables and insides of computers. It wasn't as such a décor as just loads of shit piled up. Typical L2.

Wufei had said there was a back entrance to the apartment so I scooted around the building row – next door was a pawn shop one way, the other way was a dive bar. Bet it wasn't the quietest place to live. But it was cheap. And it looked like the sort of place a local thug could afford. Being undercover was about always keeping up the appearance of who you were supposed to be. You couldn't be some two bit thief and live at the Ritz even though the Preventers could afford you to. Shit, I had so many scars and wounds that were treated badly because I couldn't go into a hospital and show that I had medical insurance. I had a pretty impressive slash across my stomach from a knife fight a few years ago that never really healed properly. I was just a patchwork of scars.

There was a door way with a buzzer for a few apartments in the building row. I looked at it and saw the number I was looking for - twelve. Kinda poetic, everything in ones and twos. My finger went for the buzzer but then I stopped. There was a fire escape. Hmmm. That was a certainly a more interesting way to make an entrance. I don't know what exactly had got into me but there I was looking at the ladder and the fire escape. I secured my duffle over my shoulder and jumped to the bottom rung. I hadn't grown that tall and I sure as hell wasn't as elegant as Trowa but I made it and was able to pull the rest of my weight, thank god for still being skinny and travelling light. I climbed up the ladder and then reached the metallic stairs and quietly walked past the windows of the other residents. I looked in at some – the apartments were real small and looked pretty shitty but it was the best a lot of people could afford.

I crept to the window that in my calculations would lead into Heero's apartment and stopped for a second. I suppose I was doing this stupid ass thing as I was delaying the inevitable meeting with him. Shit. I swallowed and edged to the window and looked in. I could see the back of his head and I couldn't help a smirk, it was a familiar sight to me. And not in a dirty way. He was always turned away from me, looking at his laptop, running mission schematics or something. Hacking into some database, getting information and generally just ignoring me.

I could see his hair was pretty much the same and he was sat straight backed like I always remembered but apart from that I couldn't see. I must have made a noise as suddenly he turned and I could feel my breathing stop for second. He looked over, a gun already in his hand and I could see the slightly confused look that turned into a disapproving look –a knitting of brows that I'd seen a million times before. I decided in that instance to give him a small smile and a wave.

And I was confronted with the Heero Yuy Death Glare as he stalked across the room to open the window. Huh, some things never change.

 


	6. All Because of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - the Good Left Undone - Rise Against

**Chapter Six**

**All Because of You**

I always thought I was kinda cool. That I acted in a way that could be considered cool, flippant, nonchalant. The moment I almost fell through Heero's open window was not only not one of my finest moments, it was one of the most embarrassing things I'd done for a  _long_ time. And certainly not cool. Once the window opened I inelegantly threw my duffle in the room and then followed it without looking too closely and damn nearly fell into the room in a heap. I was meant to be a sneaky bastard but if I'd been like this in my past career of breaking and entering, I wouldn't have lasted long.

I rose to my feet and straightened up feeling more than a little stupid at my unsuccessful entrance.

Heero snorted which might as well have been hysterical laughing. "There's a door, Duo."

"Yeah, but you know me, always like to make an entrance."

"Your stealth skills have become rusty."

I scratched the back of my head and shrugged. "Guess I'm not as sneaky as I used to be."

He shook his head in a sign of disapproval but I could see a slight quirk of his lips that suggested he found my whole entrance amusing. Being that it had taken all the potential tension out of the situation, I was giving myself a ten out of ten. I wasn't used to making a fool of myself anymore, it made me feel a little like I how used to be – ready to make people laugh. I didn't do that anymore. Or I hadn't until just now.

I looked at him and a smile must have crossed my face. I wanted to laugh now because the Heero in front of me was not the one that I thought about. He looked different, older yeah, but looked, well normal, you know. No spandex, less intense eyes, he'd bulked out more than me since the wars but he was still lean. He was wearing ripped jeans which made my head spin, yeah he was undercover, but shit – ripped jeans, check shirt, grey t shirt, and hell – Converse – he looked like I would dress if I wasn't so attached to the black jeans and t shirt combo.

I must have laughed without realising. "Something funny?" he asked.

"You look… normal."

"What did you expect? It's been over three years," he stated.

"I just didn't think you'd change."

He obviously didn't know what to say to that as he seemed to look at me closely, his eyes searching me in a way that brought me back to being fifteen and feeling weak around him. Shit, I thought I was over this, I thought I was a grown man, I thought after everything, I wouldn't feel so… so vulnerable around him. But he didn't take my bullshit, never believed that the mask I presented to the world was the real me… he was the only person who did understand me. Q was always right, we understood each other even if we never functioned well together.

"Your hairs shorter," he said finally.

"Yeah, it was getting impractical, you know."

"I never thought you'd do that."

I shrugged. "Probably a lot of things I've done that you wouldn't expect."

I looked around the apartment now we were done sizing each other up. It was one room, a bed, a sofa, a kitchenette, a table where his laptop and work was set up. There was nothing that identified it as Heero's place apart from the glowing laptop – the place could've belonged to anyone. I could see a bathroom through an open door off the kitchenette – it was tiny and in a stupid place. Gotta love the design of accommodation in L2.

"It's cozy."

"It's well located and I am able to use the technology of the café below to disguise my own communications with Wufei."

I nodded not really knowing what to say. We were stood, me by the window, him leaning against the small table and I didn't really know what to do or say.

"Do you want coffee?" he asked finally.

"Sure."

"Black?"

I nodded.

He walked over to the kitchenette, got out some chipped mugs and poured cups from a pot. I took my chance to sit on the couch and unzipped the hooded sweatshirt a bit. I'd been travelling for hours and felt gross – I'd get a shower at whichever shitty motel I found to check into after this awkward situation. He handed over the coffee in chipped mugs.

"Thanks."

"Have you eaten?"

"Yeah."

He walked over to the chair at the table and turned the chair towards me. His laptop was open – the screen casting a little green light on his features. It felt very familiar. I took a sip of the coffee. It was decent and strong.

"So… you've been undercover for all this time?" I asked.

"Mainly military based groups full of ex-OZ soldiers."

"Hmm, sort of place I wouldn't fit in."

"I… I thought you were dead."

I shrugged, meeting his eyes. Damn, his eyes. "Naw, nothing can kill Shinigami, you should know that."

A silence descended on the room. I shifted awkwardly and took a sip of the coffee avoiding his glance.

"Do you want to stay? Wufei suggested that you should while you assess the situation."

I think the look of shock must have registered on my face as he was looking at me strangely. "Naw, I'll check into some shitty motel. I'm pretty used to them."

He nodded. I saw something in his eyes that I would like to say was disappointment but damn, maybe I was just being a stupid idiot who thought there was still something there for him after all this time. I shrugged and then thought about a crappy motel room and looked around the cozy apartment. It made sense that I stayed, we could go through everything, share information, and surely it proved that we could work together fine if I stayed.

"I'll stay. Guess it's easier than finding somewhere cheap to stay," I said taking another sip of coffee and avoiding direct eye contact. "Can I take a shower? I've been travelling for hours and I'm kinda gross."

"Yes but run the water first. It tends to come out dirty at first."

I rolled my eyes. "Those are the things I don't miss about here."

I put my coffee cup down and grabbed some clean clothes from my duffle feeling his eyes on me as I walked to the bathroom. He watched me as I shut the door on him. The room was dark, windowless and dirty. I could tell Heero had tried to clean the place up but there were some stains that just didn't seem to go no matter how hard you scrubbed. I took a deep breath and started to run the water and he was right, it was dirty and it was cool. Same old. Always seemed like the water was never hot enough on L2. Especially not in a shitty place in the District.

I undressed and undid my hair letting it fall over my shoulders. I suppose it didn't surprise me that it was the first thing he mentioned about my appearance. He'd always been fascinated why I kept it so long so it made sense that he'd notice it. It had been my defining feature and sometimes I felt a little sick that I'd cut it but it made my undercover work easier. The cool water ran down my body and over the new ink. Suppose these were my defining feature now.

He hadn't seen the ink that now marked my left arm, the intricate linking of images that flowed in blacks and muted colours. It was weird, I hadn't, you know, intended it, but the angels wings, the way they spread over my shoulder, curling around to where the shadowy image of Deathscythe that started on the inside of my arm… it looked more than a lil bit like the wings of the upgraded Wing Zero. The angel itself was a series of thin lines, the body naked but you know, not obviously so, but the wings, the way they looked... I could say it was a way of recognising my Catholic past but the thing was, the angel wasn't about that, I had the goddamn Celtic style cross on my forearm and that to me was the symbolic link I had to that faith. So the angel meant something else. Let's just say, it ain't a love letter to him. Or at least, I don't think it is.

I got out of the shower, dried myself and dressed quickly, throwing on a black tank top and some baggy jeans that sat low on my hips. I rebraided my hair while it was still wet and opened the door to see him sat back at the damned laptop. It reminded me of the last day I'd seen him.

He was still wounded and in that goddamn sterile smelling hospital. I hated hospitals. I thought about bailing but a part of me couldn't so instead, I just stayed, hung around but with Relena and the others there we never got time alone and I was really cool with it. If it was really over this time, if we weren't soldiers and shit, then me and Heero were nothing to each other. Fuck buddies. That was it.

I didn't know what to say to him when he was in that hospital bed. He was so… so lost, I guess. He'd done everything, he'd damn near given everything and he was ready to be dead, I guess. And he wasn't. Quatre had made me go to him, realising I was avoiding him – Q knew me well. He was sat up in the bed on his laptop, I could see the bandages from the various wounds, I was smarting a little from him punching me and bossing me around so I was prepared to be an ass to him. I didn't want a relationship with him, it had already complicated the war for me – made me hurt in ways that I didn't want to ever feel again. I didn't want to feel vulnerable again. And so I said it meant nothing. It was easier that way. But it wasn't. I hadn't expected him to argue with me, try to get out of the hospital bed and grab me by the collar of my shirt. I didn't expect him to kiss me like he did. Like he was trying to find an anchor in a storm or something and I couldn't deal… I pushed him away, physically, making him fall back onto the hospital bed, his laptop falling ominously to the floor. Then I said those words you can't back down from.

"I hate you."

I don't know why I said it. I still don't get it. It was me being a melodramatic little shit but whatever it worked. My big mouth had a habit of getting me into trouble but I was so drained that I couldn't deal with him when I was too busy putting me back together. I left him there, you know, looking lost and hurt. And then Quatre tried – that's Q for you, he always tried. That big old space heart of his always told him we belonged together or some other shit. He always told me we were alike.

"You are the same, Duo," he said gently. "You seem like fire and ice on the surface but underneath that you're both stubborn, reckless, loyal and maybe a little damaged. Talk to him."

I didn't. I ran away. Then he disappeared, checked out of that hospital and went MIA. And Quatre was right to hate me – right to blame me for it. And now Heero was here. In front of me. And I still didn't know what to say. I miss you sounded pathetic. We were too young and damaged then for anything to work. And I was still pretty damaged.

"Thanks 'Ro," I said throwing a towel over a chair, putting my dirty clothes in my duffle before grabbing my hoodie again but he'd looked up. Of course, he had.

His eyes studied my arm, I suppose he'd see the silhouette of the angel, the wings and feathers spreading across the top of my arm like the wings of his Gundam, the silhouette of Deathscythe black apart from the green of the scythe, I self-consciously rubbed my hand over them and then put the sweatshirt back on, zipping it fully as though I was trying to hide my body as much from him. Fuck, he was looking at me  _very_ seriously. Even though he damn near always looked serious, he was full on staring at me, his blue eyes then returning back to my face.

"We should discuss the mission."

I thought he was going to say something but hell, if he wasn't going to judge me like 'Fei did, I wasn't going to push it. I grabbed my own duffle bag, bringing out my laptop and set it out on the table opposite him. I ran my fingers through my still damp bangs and then booted the machine up. Heero's machine looked new opposite mine as mine was covered in stickers and pen. I liked making stuff my own, I'd got some stickers about some bands while in Berlin, the tattoo shop I'd got the ink from had stickers so I just put them on the laptop. Considering I'd only just got the thing, I'd made it look pretty old and battered. A part of me knew he was holding his tongue – he surely wanted to call me an idiot or something for messing up a laptop but he didn't. We were both being very careful around each other – we weren't going to fall back into old habits. No teasing and suggestive comments from me and no calling me an idiot and judging me from him. Seemed like we were pretending to be strangers. Worked for me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He grunted in response and threw a manila envelope across the small table. I opened it as my machine booted up, the identity information presented in the same format as my own were. It listed the basics first, the name, the age which was usually just the actual age you were, and then I saw his past.

"So nice to meet ya, Blaise. I'm Domino. Call me Dom for short."

"I know. Wufei sent me your identity information."

"Huh, you must be his favourite asset. I haven't seen yours."

He scowled at the childishness of my statement but I ignored him and flicked through his file. Blaise was his street name – he was meant to be from Earth, Japan specifically, and had lived a life of computer crime and smuggling. The computer stuff was good as it made sense why a hacker would pick to live above Wired – nice touch, Wufei and team, but the smuggling stuff was what he was trying to interest the L2 criminal community with. Which made me think of my weapon problem or lack thereof.

"'Fei said you'd got in with the local gun runners. I need a coupla pieces – kinda flew commercial."

He nodded and walked over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard. No food in there but he brought out a backpack and walked over with it and dumped it by my feet.

"A few handguns and a flick knife."

I looked in to see a few guns of various calibres along with ammo. I picked up the flick knife and saw it was almost identical to the one I'd had during the war. I flicked it out loving the subtle sound – I'd been known to sit and annoy him by flicking it in and out during missions or just in our shared rooms. He fucking hated it. I'd done it to get his attention and it usually worked at some point. I put the blade away, checked to see if the blade would easily fit in my jeans pocket knowing that I would probably be wearing my usual black skinny jeans on the streets. It would fit and would be easily accessible.

"Thanks, Heero," I said showing my genuine thanks by using his full name. He'd always hated 'Ro but didn't grumble about it much – he knew that he was lucky. The others had ended up with numerous nicknames over the war and he was glad he'd only ended up with the shortened version of his name. Quatre had a particular problem about being called Goggles. Heero had got pissy at me one time saying that his name was short enough already. Granted, it was, but I kinda liked him getting annoyed at me. I knew that I had his attention if I did and somehow it made me understand that he cared.

"It's just a knife," he said dismissively.

I wanted to tease him and say it wasn't just a knife. It was like a romantic gesture to someone like me – I never wanted "I love you" from him, never any of that shit, a bottle of bourbon, some motorcycle parts or a flick knife, and I could be putty in his hands. But damn, I wasn't going to tease him right now. Remember, being neutral, being colleagues. Forget what happened.

I shrugged and began to look at the files uploaded by Wufei. "So the gun runners…they close to this Dallas?"

"No. They provide weapons for him. They've been asked to provide him some C4 and some components to build explosives."

"So they are really serious?"

"I would say so."

"Have you got evidence?"

"I've got some rumours and heresy. I've been providing weapons for the gun runners but they are… reluctant to discuss things with me and what they are for. I've not met Dallas but he's very suspicious of anyone not raised on the streets of L2."

I nodded. "That's gangs for you 'Ro. Everyone's trying to kill you and everyone wants to shop you to the Preventers. It's not paranoia if they are after you."

I flicked up the picture of Dallas on my screen and felt something… oddly familiar about him. I stared at it for some time trying to remember if it was someone I'd lived with at some point in my time on the streets. In Solo's gang kids came and went – Dallas was twenty two so that made him a few years older than me but I couldn't place him. The name wasn't familiar though Dallas sure as hell wouldn't be his real name but most of us had names we'd given ourselves or someone else had given us. I'd been Duo back then.

It could be the church but those kids I remembered… maybe because those particular deaths were on my conscience but shit, Dallas looked familiar. He was wearing typical gang clothes, baggy jeans, a white wife beater, a black bandana obscuring most of his blonde hair. He had numerous tattoos and piercings. I noticed blue eyes staring at me over the screens.

"Something wrong?"

"Just feel like I recognise Dallas. But you know, I knew so many kids and so many of them disappeared or died that I can't place him."

"It would be good if you had some kind of personal connection."

I shrugged. "Don't know, 'Ro. It could be good or bad. He could've been in a rival gang to Solo's and that would stir up shit. Or I could be forgetting some guy who I knew well as a kid."

I stretched out, leaning back on the chair and put my hands behind my head, realising that it raised my top and hoodie exposing my stomach. I had never been as defined as Heero or damn near any of us but my body was still in decent shape. His eyes drifted that way and I didn't know what to think. I should have teased him – I should've said something crude and flirty. Damn near did. But I held my tongue, baby steps. It was bad enough we'd be sharing the cramped quarters for one night without me making something sexual about him looking at my body. He could just be like 'Fei was – checking on my physical and mental health. Or looking at the scar from the knife fight. That would be very Heero. Wouldn't want me passing out or being weak on a mission. Think of it like that, Duo. Mind out of the gutter.

He blinked, realising that I knew he'd been looking at me slightly too intensely and he ran his hand through his messy hair in a nervous gesture I didn't expect. I stopped leaning back and pulled down my top and sweatshirt without looking back at him.

"We should have a meeting with the leader of the gun runners tomorrow," Heero said. "I've contacted Wufei to get us some explosives and equipment."

"'Fei will get you that?"

"He will if we need it for the mission."

"Why can't we just fake it? You know, bullshit them, I'm kinda good at that."

"I can imagine," he said, coolly. Damn, Yuy, way to go making a guy feel low. "But I think only the real materials will get you a meeting with Dallas."

My eyes darted back to the picture on my screen. "You think the gun runners will broker a meeting?"

"If you've got enough C4 to blow up a colony and the skills to construct it."

"Suppose. How long til 'Fei gets something to you?"

"I've contacted him. Two days."

"So you arrange the meeting with the gun runners and I convince them that I'm an explosives guy and then we've got the actual shit for the day I meet with Dallas?"

He nodded.

"Might work," I said, shrugging.

"It might not. I believe Dallas is too cautious to trust you."

"We're fucked either way. Might as well try and get me in before anything goes down."

I yawned, feeling the day of travelling and the emotional upheaval of being face to face with him all too much. Sleep had been a problem for so long that when I did feel dead tired like I did now, I was best to try and get a few hours shut eye before my brain caught up with me. I turned off the images in front of me and switched off my machine.

"I'm beat, 'Ro. Long day and all."

"You can take the bed."

"Naw, I'll take the couch… it's better than some of the dumps I've slept in undercover missions, you know."

I knew it was early but he started to switch off his own machine and got up. "If we sleep now, I will take you out early to the hospital to scout out Dallas' base."

"Sure, sounds awesome."

He passed over a pile of blankets as I moved my duffle and moved around the cushions to create a comfy bed. I took them off him, our hands briefly touching and our eyes meeting. Fuck, don't look at him, asshole. It was making me remember too much stuff and too much shit that had gone on between us.

"Thanks."

He didn't respond as he went to the bathroom leaving me alone. I quickly got out of my jeans and folded them leaving me in my boxers and tank top. I crept under the blankets before he came back in, him wearing a t shirt and a pair of bed shorts. It seemed neither of us wanted to get undressed around each other. It was good. Back to the beginning. Forgot everything we did and pretend it never happened.

"Night," I said turning over so I looked at the couch back rather than into the room and towards him.

I could hear his feet padding quietly as he checked the locks, the windows and then climbed into his own bed.

As soon as I closed my eyes, I felt sleep coming and knew that somehow, after all the years, and all the crappy missions that seemed to haunt me, I was going to sleep pretty soundly. And all because of him.

Damn.

 


	7. Ghosts From Broken Homes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - This Could be Anywhere in the World - Alexisonfire

**Chapter Seven**

**Ghosts from Broken Homes**

It was bright and early when we set out to the hospital that Dallas and his crew used. I'd slept great but didn't say much to Heero. He'd provided energy bars for breakfast. Kind of figured. Apart from coffee, the kitchen was pretty spotless and seemed a storage space for weapons rather than somewhere that food was prepared. He'd always been one for energy bars and nutritionally balanced bland tasting food. I'd almost whined when we passed out of the back of Wired. It was an internet café and the food, while I bet was not great, would be superior to the tasteless bar I'd just eaten. I could smell bacon. Stupid Heero.

Dallas' crew used an old hospital located on the edge of the District. It had been built years ago and had been abandoned by the L2 government and left to fall into disrepair. It had been that way when I was a kid – just left, not even bothering to knock it down and build something else. That was L2 for you. It made me think of the L2 Project and all the things that Winner Corp were planning to build – maybe it would make the place better. Bulldoze the District and build affordable homes. Take down this crappy old hospital and build a decent one. All sounded good. All sounded too good. Damn sure that was why the people of L2 hated it. There had been promises before – promises about improving the weather cycles, promises about stopping the street crime and getting the street kids off the street. I'd heard them all before.

Solo used to laugh about things like that. "Promises, kiddo, promises always get broken. Remember that?"

I remembered shit like that he used to say – I was a kid and I idolised him – so sue me.

The approach to the hospital was through apartment block lined streets. It was probably generous to call them apartment blocks as they were a disaster zone – covered in graffiti, windows boarded up and roofs falling off. It was probably a nightmare when the L2 weather cycle got to rain – it was a rare occurrence on L2 but every now and then, it was thought that the colony needed rain so it would fall and it would suck. Though after my experience on Earth, I was kinda glad I'd lived on the streets in a colony rather than somewhere where it would rain all the time. Small mercies, I guess.

Heero was right to go out early. The streets were empty and we weren't as conspicuous as we would have been. Yeah, he looked like he could fit in and I hadn't put on either my jacket or hoodie so that my arm was showing but it would look a little odd. The day light made me feel exposed but my flick knife was in the pocket of my snug jeans and I'd managed to shove a small hand gun down the back of the waistband and covered it a little with my t shirt. I wanted people to know I was carrying. Heero hid his own weapon and was carrying a small backpack with photographic equipment and other surveillance shit.

He'd scoped the place out before and directed us to the side of the hospital building to an area which may have been intended to be a park at one point. Now it was overgrown and dead mostly. Obviously the colony hadn't had rain for a while. He'd found a vantage point and dropped his pack, leaning down and grabbing binoculars and offering a pair to me.

"Always prepared, huh? You're like a boy scout."

He grunted, not in the mood for my jokes. Touchy. I looked through and could see the parking lot was full of burned out cars and junk. I also could see the gang had a group of look outs. They didn't look like they were guarding very effectively – they were grouped together, chatting. I looked up to the room of the building to see a sniper located who seemed to be bored. He had the weapon but was just kinda holding it without any intentions.

"Don't seem very organised."

"The day crew seems less capable."

"Night crew must be tougher, I guess, more action."

He nodded. I looked more closely at the group situated between the burnt out cars. There were three of them – and as I looked I could tell there was one girl alongside the two guys. She was wearing baggy clothes but it was a girl.

"You notice the girl? Thought you said it was all guys."

"I've never seen a girl before."

"Look at the guards – two dudes, one chick. Pretty obvious."

He looked again closely as I kicked a bit of the plants around my ankles. Girls were important in gangs – they usually had the toughest time so it was only the toughest chicks that made it through. The girl would be a badass.

"I don't see the significance."

"You've never worked in a gang, 'Ro, girls in gangs have to be tough otherwise they become just objects to be used and traded. If they've got a chick with a gun she's probably important. I'd guess she's Dallas' second in command."

He lowered his binoculars and looked at me critically. "You have no way of knowing that."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's only a hunch. I've been living in gangs for half my life, you get to know the hierarchies. It ain't like the war. Totally different set of rules."

I wanted to make a comment about that was the reason I was here – that I was called in as Heero didn't have the adequate knowledge but I bit my tongue. I kinda liked being superior in something and decided I wasn't going to be an ass about it. It wouldn't help.

We left the hospital and headed back to Wired where Heero used one of the computers while I ordered some food that actually, you know, resembled food. The guy who ran Wired was an old dude who wore an eye patch and called himself the Captain which amused me, as I sat and chatted to him. He knew I'd come in with Heero so seemed suspicious of the situation between us. I decided to make it less suspicious.

"We're, like, together."

It sounded a dumb way of saying it. I said  _together_ with a lot of emphasis. The Captain nodded and looked over to Heero sat on one the machines, intently typing. I had no fucking idea what he was doing. He was just meant to be contacting the gun runners, not typing a motherfucking essay. I sipped the soda. Heero looked over as though he knew he was being talked about then looked back to the machine. I shrugged. I really didn't know what he wanted from me. I really didn't know what I wanted for him. Fuck it, this was complicated.

"Good luck to ya," the Captain said, not phased by the information, which I decided was good.

Maybe I could get the Captain to spread the rumours about us, made our cover more relatable. I could be an old flame busting into town looking for work. Probably should have shared this info with Heero first. Damn, wasn't used to working with someone.

I finished the soda and walked over to Heero and decided to make a lil show, I draped myself a little over his shoulder, my hair falling into his lap and my chin touching his shoulder. Credit to him, he didn't elbow me or try to knock my lights out, but he did visibly stiffen at the contact of my skin on his. We'd avoided touching so far. Plus, this was something I'd done before, if my constant patter of talking bullshit didn't get a rise outta him then sure as hell, skin to skin contact did. He'd fuck me just to stop me annoying him. And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I know it's not love. And it never was.

"What the-"

He hissed at me. Goddamn hissed. He was pretty pissed, that I could tell.

"Go with it," I whispered back, my mouth a little too close to his ear. "It works for the cover."

I could tell he was glaring though I couldn't see his eyes. I looked at the screen in front of him and realised he was writing encryption for a secure message, then I looked back to see if anyone was watching us. The Captain had disappeared to the kitchen area and the only other patron was a gross looking fat guy who was really sweaty. I really hoped he wasn't looking at porn but suspected he was – there you go, another classy moment on L2.

I flopped down at the seat next to him and leaned back, putting my arms behind my head, watching him closely. He ignored me but I had a feeling I'd got to him. Heh, score one for Maxwell! But damn, what the fuck was I doing? I shouldn't be messing, shouldn't be playing to see if he wanted to jump my bones still as after all, hadn't I said I hated him? Hadn't I pushed him away? Wasn't I the asshole in this situation?

Everyone else had sided with Heero after all – even Quatre who was supposed to my best friend. I was expected to be the better one in this situation. That was the thing. Everyone thought I was the less messed up one out of us so I was the one that should have been there for him. What they never figured out was that I just hid it better.

He finished typing and logged off the machine, grabbed his rucksack and didn't look at me.

"I need to collect something from upstairs."

"Roger that," I said sarcastically.

I waved at the Captain as we left which earned me a scowl from Heero. There was no harm in being friendly, you know, is what I wanted to say. But I decided it was better not to say anything.

We went back to the apartment and I leaned against the door watching him ditch the surveillance equipment in the kitchen cupboards before stalking around the room to the dirty awfully patterned rug that sat over the wooden floorboards. He folded the rug over and dug out a pocket knife I never knew he carried around before jimmying open a coupla of the boards to where he kept the real stash. Cash. Lot's of it.

"Wow," I said. "What ya do – rob a bank?"

He grunted ignoring me and started getting out bundles and putting some into front pouch of the backpack. I assumed he didn't want help so I watched.

"Is it Preventers money?"

"Yes. Money speaks apparently in your line of work."

"You mean money talks. And you know it's not literal. It's just a phrase."

I really think he wasn't appreciating my sarcasm as I got a stone cold glare. Look who got out of the wrong side of bed this morning.

"The leader of the gun runners is called Antoine. We'll have to pay him to broker a meeting."

"How much?"

Heero didn't answer me as he lifted something from the floor boards I'd not seen for a while – a greyish coloured block that I knew was explosives and put it in the bag. C4 was the most stable of explosives – you could pretty much shoot it without it going off. It was all about the mechanism that was attached to it, the charges and what not that made it active and so he could carry it in the backpack without worrying about being blown to kingdom come. It looked like Play Doh. But still, authorities knew what it was, you couldn't just go through security with it in a spaceport. It was a small amount but it could create a nice crater. I wondered how he had it.

"How the fuck do you have that?"

"I didn't travel commercial."

I smirked at the attempt at being vaguely funny. If Heero had a sense of humour, which I occasionally think he did, it was dark and very, very dry.

"I thought we might need proof that I can get explosives."

"Yeah and that would be proof."

He replaced the floorboard, leaving some cash in the hole and pulled the rug back over. I decided to grab my black hoodie and rolled up the sleeves a little – it wasn't particularly cold but L2's weather system was a temperamental son of a bitch and I wasn't quite sure which season or weather cycle we were meant to be in the middle of. I hadn't thought of checking it out – I suppose it never really mattered as much on the colonies, it wasn't like the undercover in motherfucking Russia that I'd spent two months freezing my balls off. That had been  _so_ much fun.

"The gun runners operate from a club," Heero said, putting the backpack over his shoulders which I thought looked kinda cute. It made him look like he was going to school – not that it actually contained C4 and obscene amounts of money.

"Awesome."

We didn't say anything else to each other as we left Wired and walked to said club. I think it unsettled Heero. The kid I'd used to be would just fill silence as I fucking hated silence. Silence makes you think about things. Now… I didn't mind it as much. I'd been alone and isolated for so long that I didn't talk a mile a minute anymore. I'm not saying I'm Trowa or anything but I don't feel the need to fill silence and I didn't feel the need to do it now. So it was him that broke it.

"Duo."

"Hmm?"

"Why did you do that?"

"What?"

"Act like we're…"

"Together?"

He nodded.

"Because if I'm staying with you it makes it look more, like normal, if I'm some kinda ex rather than me just arriving in town and moving in with ya."

This confused him. Maybe it was confusing me. I think my argument was shaky at best for this pretence and I was now wondering why I'd done it. Despite him looking normal I didn't think he was deprogrammed fully from whatever his Perfect Solider training had done. And this seemed like a sneaky tactic at best from me – yeah, I wanted to touch him, there was a part of me that just wanted to suggest fucking and see what happens. But I couldn't do that to him. Hell, I couldn't do that to me. If it had been just fuck buddies as I always wanted it to be then I would have done that, wouldn't I? Last night, I'd have just stripped in front of him, I would've been my slutty best and seen if he was interested. And it wouldn't have mattered in the morning. But it did matter – it mattered that we hadn't. My brain was hurting and it was nothing to do with a stupid L2 gang and the threat to Q's life. And that's what I was here for, not for me and Heero to work out what the hell we had, I tried to think about my job. The mission. Push it down and think about other shit.

"'Ro, I'm not used to working with anyone… I shoulda asked you if you wanted to go with it."

He seemed to be thinking, I scanned his face as we walked. It was like he was processing the information, weighing up the scales, seeing the positive and the negatives. It was times like this that I thought he wasn't human. Everything was think about it – calculate, work it, it was like he had computer under that thick skull.

"It's fine," he said finally.

"Cool."

We arrived to the club in question and I couldn't help smirking. It was called Black Velvet, the neon sign in darkness at this time of day but it was clear what kind of place it was. Strip joint. This was probably going to be catalogued in the most surreal moments in my life – put it with having Wufei holding my hair while I threw up and seeing Heero throw himself outta a hospital window and not pulling the chord on his parachute.

I was still smiling, maybe a little psychotically as I motioned towards him. "You go first."

He did – I think the whole weirdness of the situation didn't really register with him as I followed to the darkly lit club. It was large with a stage where a couple of girls were grinding on the poles. I glanced over to them to see them doing their best to get some cash off the small crowd. I wasn't gonna judge the girls – there were far worse things to do than become a stripper but it all felt a little weird to me. They were baring everything for like five guys. And we'd up the male quota by two and neither of us were interested – or at least, I knew I wasn't. I'd never figured if 'Ro was gay or bi or just some kind of alien sexuality. I noticed him glance in the direction of the stage but he didn't seem to have any response at all.

We walked over to the bar with a girl wearing more than the girls on stage but only by a small amount. She wore tiny denim hot pants and her black t shirt was slashed and cropped, the words Black Velvet across her chest, I mean I looked. Just because I am gay doesn't mean I don't notice chicks.

"What can I get ya?" she asked, all false cheerfulness, boobs out and big smile.

"Nothing darlin', we're here to see Antoine," I answered as Heero looked round once again. I knew what he was doing – old habits die hard you know, figure out the potential dangers and shit.

Her mouth narrowed into an "ohh" and she looked at us very shrewdly. "He's in the private room – follow me."

We followed her, walking closely past the stage, I didn't look up at the girls instead I looked at the clients. I was kinda curious what sort of man sits in a strip club at 3.30pm and I saw a cop uniform and a coupla suits along with a tatted up young guy. Most of the guys were old, mid-forties was my best guess.

Our friendly bar tender opened a door at the back of the room and then reached out to touch Heero. I watched her do it expecting him to react, I expected those lightning fast reflexes to have her hand behind her back and her in masses of pain. He didn't. I saw damn near a look of fear in his blue eyes, I'm pretty sure he still didn't know how to deal with chicks, that had always been the problem with Relena. He didn't know how to talk to girls.

"I can get you some private time with the girls," she said, a seriously predatory look in her eyes. "And me."

Her eyes were all over Heero. I really didn't blame her – I would say my looks were quirky whereas he was as conventionally attractive as you get. Tall, dark and handsome. He was a stereotypical good looking leading man if we were in the movies. I'd be the side kick. It didn't bother me that her attention was all over him but it did bother him.

I laughed darkly. "Sweetie, you are _so_  wasting your time. He'd prefer a lap dance from me than you or any of the girls."

Her hand left his arm as quickly as if she'd been burnt. Heero looked over to me in a way that suggested he was thankful for my intervention. I grinned back at him as she looked between us.

"You make a hot couple," she said

"Thanks," I responded as she walked away, her eyes still on both of us as she did. I shrugged and gestured towards him and we walked through the door. I really couldn't work out if now she was imaging us together but whatever.

We were in a really dark back room that had no window. It was lit moodily which to me meant it was difficult to see properly. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to see the large desk, the pool table, and the walls covered in pictures of various girls in different stages of undress. Some of the pictures were pretty coy, you know, chicks in dresses doing that look over their shoulder with their finger in their mouth but there were some that were just showing everything. I looked over to Heero for a second but he'd already been here. He'd probably done the same thing as I did the first time – looked to see the surroundings and how to get out. The way out was from the way we'd come but there was another door opposite us which I assumed led to another room before the exit into the alley.

There were two guys in the room. One was a heavy and he was stood next to the large desk. He was big, taller than Heero and was very broad, his arms were huge and tattooed, his head was shaved close and he had his arms folded across his chest in a way that was quite intimidating. I could see across his hands the letters HATE LIFE across them. Which seemed charming. He looked fun. I could see why Antoine hired the goon – he was good as an ornament never mind what his fighting skills were like. I think we could take him but you know, it would be difficult. But it always important to remember that not everything is about brute strength.

The other was Antoine. He was sat at the desk lazily, his feet up on the desk, so that his steel toed boots were visible. He eyed his goon and Heero offered his backpack and gun in response and then put his hands up so that the heavy could pat him down. It seemed weird to me to see Heero just submit to the treatment – the Heero I knew sure as hell wouldn't but shit was different now, I suppose. The gun and the backpack Heero carried were put on the pool table which was really not the most secure. We could easily get back our shit. It amazed me how cocky some criminals are. The heavy glanced over to me then towards his boss.

"Who's the pretty boy, Blaise?"

"Domino," he replied for me.

I grinned a real Cheshire cat smile. "Call me Dom."

"Gus, pat him down."

Gus did that with a little too much enthusiasm. I was really beginning to hate the fact that all heavies, cops and authority figures liked to pat me down with a little more force than was necessary. I was looking forward to being a nobody again – I really was sick of being felt up.

He removed my gun from my waistband and then found the flick knife in my pocket, he smirked as he brought it out and flicked it out in front of my face. He was intimidating, I wasn't going to deny it – he looked like he could snap me in half.

"Sit, gentleman," Antoine offered.

There were two fold out chairs at the other side of the desk to Antoine and we took them, I looked over to Gus who was now was flicking my knife in and out like I did. Hell, it was annoying when someone else did it. I was really annoying when I wanted to be.

"What ya got for me Blaise? Sure as hell better not be the pretty boy… though I'm sure I've got customers that would be interested in him. Might spice up the club a lil."

I wanted to fly at the guy but I felt a hand on my thigh which I glanced down at it really fucking puzzled. Blame the sudden anger as it took two seconds for my brain to process the image. Heero was touching my thigh, his fingers squeezing a second before moving – a quick signal to suggest he knew what I was thinking. He knew my temper was my main problem. Hell, I bet 'Fei had warned him how I can go off still. And I don't know… stuff that upset me tended to be pervy sexual stuff. I suppose I'd been a walking target for it all my life with the long hair and all, but I couldn't help seeing red. I took a breath and plastered a smile on my face as fake as they come.

Heero answered for me. "Dom is an explosives expert."

Antoine's eyes ranged over me again, taking in the tattoo on my arm, and staring very intently at my face and then his eyes glanced to my braid. I looked back defiantly. I took in everything about him. I was used to guys like him – I'd worked with so many of them over the years. People always underestimated me on my appearance as well. You had to prove you wouldn't back down. And I wasn't gonna. He moved his feet from the desk and then sat forward, leaning across the desk and staring into my eyes.

"Where ya from? Blaise never mentioned you before."

"I just got back. I was born here."

"I don't know ya."

"Ya know everyone from L2 ever?"

"No, but I know every criminal and low life."

I shrugged. "Just got back, been working elsewhere."

"Why come back? Most people don't."

I looked over to Heero who seemed to be uncomfortable. "Him."

"Him? You two…ahh." He made a crude gesture with his hand near his mouth, his tongue in his cheek. I rolled my eyes in response. "Wondered why Blaise hadn't took up Niko's offers."

"Yeah, told her he'd prefer a lap dance off me."

He laughed. "You got balls, Dom. She's an alley cat. Not used to not getting what she wants."

The room seemed ever so slightly less tense. I could hear Gus still flicking the knife in an annoying rhythm. Antoine looked over.

"Fuck it, Gus, stop it, man. Get our guests some drinks. What's your poison, Dom?"

"Bourbon on the rocks."

"Good choice… I think I prefer your honey more than you Blaise. He seems more fun."

Heero grunted at that which I smirked at – yeah, like I thought, he wasn't as convincing as a low life criminal as me. He didn't have the charm.

Gus left, his hulking body seeming to take ages to leave the room. I looked back to Antoine, he gave me a grin that showed two capped gold teeth. He did well it seemed. Guns and strippers. Living the fucking dream.

"Gus is great muscle but dumb." He looked over to Heero. "What ya got for me apart from your boy toy?"

"I can get C4 for Dallas – there's a sample in my bag."

Antoine raised his eyebrows. "You can get C4? Damn, Blaise, I don't know how you do some of this shit."

"He's one of a kind," I said, my eyes locking with his in the darkness. I gave Heero a lopsided grin and got a glare in response. He really didn't know how to play the "we're a couple card". Suppose he hadn't done that when we were fucking each other. Now that there was no physical contact, all we had was the mission.

"How much can you get?"

"How much do you need?"

"Well, that all depends. You'll have to talk to Dallas."

"Go ahead, buddy, get us a meeting with Dallas," I said.

"This one always impatient, Blaise?" Antoine asked giving me a weird smirk.

"Yes, always."

The tone in his voice was oddly sensual. I raised my left eyebrow at him unsure of what the comment meant. He wasn't a great actor, that much was clear, he just fit in with angry young ex-soldier being that, you know, that was him all over. Was he remembering shit between us? Me, impatient? Yeah, maybe, but he was sure as hell as bad as I had been. I tried to forget an image that had popped into my head, the dorm at that stupid little school where Relena found him again, us back in a dorm room, his I think, and him moving the chair to stop the door from being opened from the outside and then us both being undressed in like ten seconds flat. Horny, young, impatient? Yeah, to all three.

Gus came back in the room with a bottle and three glasses with ice on a tray. I'm surprised he hadn't dropped it. He didn't have an ounce of elegance or grace about him. He was just built. Least it stopped my train of thought. Antoine poured three glasses, offering Heero one which he accepted – I knew Heero wasn't a big fan of alcohol being that it impaired his otherwise perfect senses but it was just something normal people did – something he always seemed to struggle with. I took a sip and it seemed to burn. It was not good stuff but I didn't show it – Antoine drank his in one gulp. Heero looked at it suspiciously and I glared in response at him. I would have said just drink the fucking thing but it wasn't really the time to do that.

He took a sip and managed not to look like he hated it. I decided to down the rest of mine and slam it down as Antoine got up and wandered over to where Gus had discarded our weapons on the pool table. The backpack with the C4 was there and he opened it getting out the explosives which looked pretty harmless in their current state.

"Nice, Blaise, but really you know Dallas wants a lot more."

"I can get more."

"You said… but let's say I don't want to set up some meet and greet with Dallas and get my head blown off when you don't deliver the goods. He's got a motherfucking temper."

"We'll get the goods, let us worry about Dallas and his motherfucking temper," I said.

I was getting a little impatient with Antoine and had a feeling Heero was too. He was on some kinda power trip wanting to feel like he ran the L2 criminal scene. Sure, he had the strip joint and the guns but he wasn't running the show. I wondered if there were any issues with Dallas and Antoine. It seemed if Dallas was the king of current L2 badasses then someone like Antoine may have a problem with it. It was an angle. I logged the information for later.

Antoine sat back down and looked over at us, his eyes glanced at Heero first then back to me.

"I'll get you the meeting… for a price."

"How much?"

"Twenty thou'."

It seemed Antoine just went for a ballpark figure – a large ballpark figure. I wasn't sure how much Preventer cash Heero had but was pretty damn sure it was not that much.

"We have eight," he said bluntly, glaring at Antoine.

Antoine had balls. He had the full Yuy Death Glare on him and he didn't flinch. Suppose to him, he was just Blaise some Japanese kid who made his money smuggling and messing with computers. It wasn't Gundam pilot 01 who could snap someone neck in two without a thought. He'd never seen the Heero I'd seen.

"Then taking into account our previous dealings, Blaise, I'll get one of you in."

"One of us?" I asked.

"It's more than half the price… one of you meets Dallas."

"No deal," Heero said, his arms folded across his chest, stubbornness personified.

"Then no meeting with Dallas."

"I'll go," I said. "We'll pay you the eight and I'll meet him… I got the expertise anyway."

I fully realised that I had just sidestepped Heero whose glare was now fully trained on me – I was beginning to get used to it again. That look of pure unadulterated pissedness. I seemed to be being directed at yours truly like some kinda weapon. He was a coiled spring of anger, I'm sure if we'd been in private my back would be against the wall and his hands would be around my throat. And it sure as hell wouldn't be sexual. It would just be an extreme bout of Yuy anger. And I'd probably deserve it. I gave him back a glare of my own and curled my lips in an expression that was smug and nasty before turning back to Antoine.

"Deal, Dom – eight thou and you meet Dallas. I'm sure the arrangement with Dallas will earn you a hell of a lot more than eight thou. This is my finder's fee."

"Finder's fee – it's a fucking rip off!"

"You want to meet Dallas? 'Cause I'm starting to think you boys ain't serious."

It was then I noticed Gus was no longer playing with my flick knife, instead he was cracking his knuckles and looking ready to beat the shit out of us. I also noticed that Antoine had reached into the draw of his desk, carefully bringing out a very large and fancy looking piece. This was going south.

"Deal," I said. "Money's in the front pouch of the bag."

Antoine opened the front pouch seeing the money carefully separated into thousands by elastic bands. I wondered if Heero had done that or it just came that way when Wufei handed it over. I then thought that it was a fucking random thing to be thinking.

I rose to my feet and Heero followed my lead. Gangs and criminals were not his speciality but my guess his survival instinct was kicking in and he knew we needed to get out before things went bad. Antoine got all the money out of the bag, smiled so that I could see those gold teeth again and then offered his hand to Heero. They shook but I could see the tension in Heero's body. He wanted to beat the shit out of the guy – this sort of work wasn't for him.

"Nice doing business with ya."

He offered his hand to me and I took it but the bastard pulled me forward a little so that he could make me aware of how strong he was or something.

"Don't fuck with Dallas," he said.

"I have no intention of doing that…seriously."

His hand was crushing my fingers and then he looked away, letting me go. I wanted to stretch out my fingers as his grip had been pretty hard but decided it showed weakness that I really didn't want to show.

"I'll be in touch in the usual way, Blaise." He looked over to Gus. "Give 'em back their shit."

Gus handed our guns back and Antonie offered Heero his backpack minus the money. Gus paused with my flick knife. I was face to face with the prick and it seemed like he intended to keep it. I don't know why, being that it was just a flick knife but I wanted it back. After all, Heero had got it for me. I was close to kneeing that guy in balls and then Antoine spoke.

"The knife."

I was handed it back with a little bit of attitude. The one thing you really don't do to Duo Maxwell is show attitude. Cause I've got attitude in spades. I decided to flick it out in his face. Not sensible as if Heero didn't push me out of the door back into the club, I might've ended up without a head.

His hand was on my arm, virtually dragging me away and I was a little powerless to do anything else than follow him. Niko looked over from the bar. Suppose it could be a lovers tiff. We exited the club to see that the night cycle was starting and the District was coming alive.

Then he exploded. I was expecting it. We managed to get out of the club and to the alley to the left of it that was located between the club and a greasy burger place before he slammed me against the wall. He didn't say anything at first but his fingers were holding me up by my t shirt, my toes were on the ground but he was pretty much holding me upright. Ah, those shows of genetically modified Yuy strength were one thing I really didn't miss.

"That wasn't the plan."

"Yeah but it fucking worked."

He growled, a sound low in his throat that was very… animalistic. Our bodies were the closest they'd been in years, our faces only inches apart, it took every last bit of resistance I had not to lean in and kiss him. He looked conflicted, those deep blue eye boring a hole in my head. Instead of doing anything, he let go and stepped back, breathing heavily. I straightened my clothing that had been rumpled by his display of anger.

"You can't go alone."

"I'll go alone and it'll be fine. Seriously, I'm pretty awesome at my job."

He wasn't looking at me and I couldn't make up my mind what the problem was. Was it that we were meant to be working together? Or was it that I was going into the firing line without back up? Was that weird protective streak coming out again? Fuck knows.

I looked over to see that our little altercation had caused some interest in the street – a couple of girls, heavily made up had seen us. He noticed that we'd caused a little scene.

"Let's get out of here."

"Totally agree with you."

 


	8. Broken Fairy Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Many of Horrors - Biffy Clyro

**Chapter Eight**

**Broken Fairy Tale**

We arrived back at the apartment, Heero's mood still as dark as when we'd left the Black Velvet. My mood was not improved as I was thinking he was doubting my ability. He didn't know what I'd done these past few years. He didn't know what I'd done and what I'd had to become. He stormed, yeah stormed, to the bathroom, I think purely to get away from me. Fine, I thought, as I melodramatically slammed the door behind me. I just stood there for a second and then thought, you know what, I'll just pack my shit up and go.

I grabbed my duffle, throwing in the leather jacket and emptying the backpack of guns and ammo into it and then slung the bag over my shoulder. He appeared again and stopped in his tracks seeing that I was just gonna runaway – his eyes narrowed and I felt the heat of his glare.

"We obviously can't work together. I'm gonna bail."

"Duo, don't."

"Jesus, you can't tell me what to do. You can't order me around. This is my job and fuck it, I'm better than you at this."

He approached me and I backed away from him, I'd already experience enough displays of Yuy strength and anger for one day.

"All you do is run away. It's all your good at," he said, his voice completely monotone.

That's when I punched him, hard, a build-up of everything I guess. His head snapped to the side from the impact, his eyes looked down at the floor and he slowly moved a hand to where my fist had landed on his cheek. I knew what was gonna happen next, I'm not stupid, I fucking knew he would punch back and it would be harder than any punch I could throw. I never would deny the fact he was stronger than I was. His training had been intense, mine was all life experience. I was not built like he was and I knew it would hurt. I braced myself a little but couldn't really do anything about it.

His fist landed on my jaw and the power made me stagger backwards, my back hitting the door behind me. I tasted blood, the metallic coppery taste filling my mouth. We'd done this before when we were young and stupid and I suppose we should be older and wiser now. But fuck it, it was good to feel this, this anger, it was like I could finally let myself feel something that wasn't hidden by identities and undercover ops.

I moved to punch him again but his reflexes were quicker than mine and his hands stopped me, his vice like fingers on my wrists as he pushed me back towards the door again, restraining me pretty damn effectively. His body was close, stopping me from making a run. I had nowhere to go. I struggled trying to free myself, trying to get some purchase to kick out but then our eyes met. I had a split second to think, oh shit before his lips met mine.

It was rough, his lips demanding, our teeth meeting, the taste of blood as he probed my mouth. Fuck, it had been so long since I'd been kissed like that. I didn't need to give him any invitation as he pushed my body against the door, his hands still around my wrists. His body was flush against mine, the heat of it seemed to radiate over me and I wanted my hands free but he held on tight. There would be bruises, that much I knew, but fuck it, that was us all over. It was all about violence and frantic moments.

I moaned into his mouth as he forced his left leg between mine, letting me feel an obvious hardness against my thigh and letting him feel my own, I moved my hips against his, causing friction only made more torturous by the amount of denim between our bodies. Heero must have decided he wanted to touch as his hands left my wrists, his hand tracing over my sides as his tongue continued to fight a battle for dominance with mine. His calloused fingers moved over my abs and traced the scar that marred my flesh. For a second, his lips left mine, his face was slightly flush and his eyes heavy lidded. I knew I was breathing heavily as I felt the blood rushing away from my head to other places.

"New wound," I said. "Got a load more scars since the war."

His lips crashed back into mine and I grabbed the back of his head, threading my hand through his hair, my other hand tracing the skin of his back underneath his shirt, feeling the hundreds of small cuts and lines that made his body. The guy had fucking self-destructed. There was a lot of scar tissue. I moved my hand down to his ass, groping him through the denim being that the jeans were far too skinny to do anything else. I could feel a slight smirk cross his lips into our kiss and my eyes flipped open.

His hands were busy down my sides but then suddenly they were at the waistband of my jeans and he was unbuttoning them. I raised my hands to his chest and pushed away from the kiss, he looked at me in a way that was utterly adorably confused. He didn't know why the fuck I was stopping.

"Fuck, you sure you wanna do this?"

It wasn't so much a question to him but to both of us. Sex complicates shit. It always does. As much as I wanted fuck buddies, I had feelings for him and that was bad. And I couldn't think straight since he took that opportunity to kiss my neck and grab for my hand which he placed over obvious erection in his jeans.

"Does that answer your question?"

I grabbed the back of his head, stopping him from the teasing kisses on my neck and looked him dead in the eye.

"Guess so," I said, a smirk on my lips.

I let him direct me towards the bed, he was the only guy I'd ever bottomed for and the only person I'd ever let dominate me. I knew, deep down, despite all the violence and aggression between us, he wouldn't actually hurt me and he cared in his own dumb way. It also felt good to surrender to someone, to not have to fight and think or do anything. I was in his hands. I didn't want to fight.

I managed to kick off my boots with only briefly leaving his lips to deal with the laces, his trainers were dealt with and then I shrugged off my hooded sweatshirt. I put my fingers underneath his checked shirt as we stepped in unison towards the unmade bed, our lips and tongues frantic, our bodies close. I kinda felt like he was trying to devour me which sounded a weird term in my head but his mouth and tongue were so insistent, his hands touching me, holding me, feeling me so intensely that it felt like that. It felt like he wanted me so badly that my mind was blown and I just was kinda going along with it. Then I remembered, he'd thought I was dead so having me alive, my flesh underneath his hands and my tongue in his mouth was a bit of a mindfuck. I'd believed he was alive at least, though off being an asshole that didn't give a shit about me.

I broke the kiss to remove my t-shirt and threw it down to the floor, he followed my lead and I gazed at his chest, the skin tanned, the muscles taut, the scars criss-crossing. I'd forgotten how goddamn… breath taking he was. His eyes were scanning me with a laser beam look, taking in my body, then my arm. His hand went to the angel wings that spread across my arm and shoulders, running his fingers along the ink, his eyes softened, he licked his lips in a natural but unbelievably sexy way. I couldn't stand it anymore, I reached for him and started to undo the buttons of his jeans, lowering the zipper carefully.

My lips were at his ear, I nibbled at the lobe a second and I whispered as my hands touched him through his boxers, getting a low gasp for my effort. "See, I never hated you."

"I know," he said.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his body on top of mine as I pushed my hands into his jeans and helped him wriggle out, pushing them down with his boxers meaning he was naked but I was still unfortunately clothed. He returned the favour, leaving us both naked, panting and impatient. This wasn't going to be gentle but it didn't matter. I'd take the bruises and the soreness to be this close to him, it had been far too long.

It became kinda awkward as I felt I needed to ask about whether we needed protection – it came with the Preventer package to have medicals and blood tests were included with that. I knew I was clean since my last one prior to the last undercover and having not had sex since that, like I said  _long_ time. But it nearly killed off some of the passion by admitting that I had a sexual history now that I hadn't had during the war. It hadn't mattered then being as we were exclusive and never slept with anyone else. We were each other's firsts which seemed kinda pathetic but now I had to admit that I'd had other partners and needed to ask him.

"I'm clean," he said and that was all I needed from him. I trusted him – plus I didn't have any condoms and was not sure if he did. I had no patience to go to a store. Probably should've had the awkward conversation before we got to this point. Fuck it, really, I so didn't care right now.

"Me too… just needed to check."

It maybe helped a little as it slowed us down for a second, enough for Heero to find something to use as lube and prep me a little rather than just go for it. It was a long time for me and he had always been a little bit rough with me, knowing I was strong enough to take it, to deal with the way his hands held on too tight, the way he bit down a little too hard, rough was fine with me. It made it less emotional, it made it seem like fucking which I could handle. If he just started being gentle, if he gazed into my eyes and slowly moved, I don't think I could do it – making love was for other people. Not us.

From the franticness, it all started to go way too slow, as he tried to prep me. My body was demanding more – but he was trying not to hurt me which I could see was costing him all the goddamn restraint he had. He finished prepping me, his fingers then lubing himself up before starting to push into me gently which was driving me a little insane.

"Heero…"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Fuck it…"

He seemed to be feeling some of my impatience as he pushed into me, filling me, causing me to gasp and try to get my body to adjust to the intrusion. He stayed there completely still for what seeemed like forever but I could hear how ragged his breathing was, I looked up at him, that perfect body, those blue eyes looking at me with a kinda reverence. I decided to wrap my legs around his waist, forcing him closer, which made him moan, the moving of my position creating a friction that suggested the pleasure that was about to, eh, come.

"Duo…"

His voice was deep and needy. He wanted permission to move, wanted to know if I was ready and ready to be pounded to the mattress. I flexed my hips a little causing him to grunt.

"Fuck me."

It was all he needed. He gripped my hips tightly and his cock almost left my body entirely before thrusting deep and hard back into me. It proved his intentions straight away. This wasn't romantic. And sure as hell, it wasn't going to be gentle. He thrust, again and again, setting a fast rhythm. I responded, using my position to meet his thrusts, drawing him in deeper, knowing that this was gonna be over quick. I grabbed for his shoulders, my fingers holding on tightly as his thrusts starting hitting  _that_ spot and I could feel myself losing it, he was aware how close we were, his hand moving from the bed to pump me in the same frantic rhythm as his body, I arched my back as he did - the pleasure overload stopping me from thinking anything. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

I could tell when he was close, his eyes fluttering at each thrust, he made this soft sound under his breath, a quiet "yes" that told me everything. He pumped me a few more times letting me find my release first, I closed my eyes letting the sensation ride over me, and I think I probably murmured his name. He followed me, a few hard thrusts and he came, a low moan in the back of his throat as he did. I opened my eyes again, my breathing erratic and looked at him. He looked fucking perfect, tousled hair, sweaty, covered in my bodily fluids, breathing deeply. Fuck.

I unwrapped my legs from his toned waist, earning a moan from him and he lowered his body onto mine, his lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss. Heero broke off the kiss and he reached to touch my face, his hand ghosting where he'd punched me before. He didn't say sorry. Shit, I didn't want him to. For a second it felt like nothing had happened between us. It was like we were fifteen and it was fucking around, our breathing returning to normal, our bodies sticky but it wasn't. I looked away from him not being able to deal with the way he looked at me.

He responded by rolling off me and outta me, lying alongside me as I stared for a second at the ceiling. The smoke stains of the previous tenants had made interesting patterns. It could be like a Rorschach pattern but all I saw were the stains. I moved feeling his eyes all over me as I walked to find where my boxers and t shirt landed, grabbed them and headed over to the bathroom without a word. I closed the door which signalled something and I started running the water to clean up.

I looked in the mirror to see the bruise already starting to develop on my face and feeling like I did the first time. Thinking I was making the same fucking mistake. I must've zoned out a little as I heard a knock on the door – a quiet rapping of knuckles. He didn't need to knock being that the door didn't lock and I was in his fucking apartment but he still did.

"Duo?" I heard the way his voice sounded. Not monotone which was always an improvement. He probably thought he'd hurt me or something.

I opened the door to see him wearing shorts but no shirt, his arms across his chest and looking ever so confused. His feeling and emotions were difficult for other people to see - he didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve but I could tell things. The way he stood, the small quirk of his lips, the way his eyes looked. It was all small but I got it. He was confused. He didn't know what I was doing. He didn't understand. To him it probably seemed like I bolted because something was wrong.

"I'm fine."

He looked over to my face, seeing where the bruise would develop from the punch, but with a bit of pride I could see where his would appear. Yeah, I was physically fine but my mind was fucked.

"I think I should go," I said, my eyes darting to see where my clothes had ended up in the heat of the moment.

Heero moved so that he was blocking my escape, his body, that toned and gorgeous body, creating a barrier between me and freedom.

"No."

"No? Jesus, 'Ro, you can't tell me what to do just because we fucked."

I tried to dart past him but he was being unrelenting, not moving and he was reaching out to stop me. I jerked backwards knowing that if we had skin on skin contact again my resolve would just, you know, disappear.

"I think it does."

"You're shitting me? Seriously, you think that what we just did justifies you saying what I should do?"

I was kinda amazed. Sex was sex, even with him, it didn't mean candles and roses and commitment and love. Or that's what I was trying to keep hold of. Fuck buddies. Just like it was – it doesn't mean anything. I maybe didn't like lying to other people but I was so damn good at lying to myself. I knew my heart was beating out of chest, that my hands were clenched at my sides to stop reaching out and touching him. I knew I wanted more but I couldn't do it. Couldn't be hurt again.

That's when he reached out, his hand forcing my chin up so that I looked straight into his eyes – it was a tactic that was underhand. I couldn't pretend to him when he made me look into those blue eyes, it kinda melted my resistance and I felt my body relax a little.

"Can you shut up for one minute?"

I blinked in response and now I was the one who was damn confused. If we were gonna have a talk about "feelings" I was gonna throw up. I was so not ready for it.

"Duo… it's not all about you and it never has been."

I fucking knew that it wasn't all about me but I was keeping my mouth shut like a good boy.

"Stop pushing me away."

"Huh?"

"Stop pushing me away," he repeated. "It won't work."

"It worked with Quatre."

"It didn't. The whole goddamn L2 Project is for you."

Words kinda failed me. A rare occurrence but it could happen. My mouth opened but nothing came out, I was full on gaping, catching flies but nothing came to my head. Thoughts ran around my head, chasing each other as all the dots connected together and I figured now that everything that had happened between the five of us had all happened because I pushed a wounded Heero away. Ah fuck. Every moment in my life had put into motion this moment – from suggesting fucking to a fifteen year old confused solider, to meeting a blonde kid who I considered the brother I never had, to pushing away the sixteen year old slightly less confused solider and being a nasty piece of work to the best friend I ever had. If I'd just left Heero alone, if I'd just said it wasn't worth pursuing and left him for Relena we wouldn't be here. And it wouldn't be Q's life on the line.

His voice distracted the swirling thoughts. "He felt guilty. He never apologised and then you disappeared. They assumed you were dead."

"Pretty grand gesture for one street punk," I said heavily.

"Not so much for a best friend."

I leaned up to him to brush his lips, all gentle like, and he released my chin. "Shit, how do you know?"

"Trowa."

"You're in touch with Tro – isn't that against the rules, Mr Perfect?"

"I am a very competent hacker and Trowa wouldn't reveal anything."

I snorted. "Yeah because he doesn't fucking talk to anyone 'cept you and Q."

"I kept in touch as Quatre was trying to find you."

My eyes were on the floor, I couldn't stand the way he was looking at me – it made me feel so worthless. And my head was spinning – the L2 Project was all my fault. The terrorists trying to kill Quatre was all my fault. It was a damn good thing I was here to stop it being that it was all my fucking fault.

"Don't think like that."

I looked up. "You a mind reader, Yuy?"

He gently moved a stray bit of hair from around my face.

"Everything isn't your fault. You didn't make Quatre invest in the L2 Project."

"Yeah but if we all just stayed friends it would've been different."

"I disappeared first."

"Then I guess I blame you for everything," I said with a little grin. "But then if I'd not pushed you and said I hated you then maybe…."

"I still might have gone."

"Yeah, you weren't really in the best frame of mind, you know, you kinda scared me more when you were vulnerable than where you were trying to kill me. I just thought…you had the other's, Jesus, Relena was hanging round, they'd all be better at putting you back together than me."

"I didn't want her – I wanted you."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I needed to put my back together first. Still don't know if I'm there."

My hand was unconsciously rubbing at the ink on my left forearm, rubbing at the image on the inside of the arm, the two curved blades crossed – the weapons that Sandrock had been equipped with. Q put my back together once – after Heero's goddamn self-destruction, made me realise there was no point in following him into whichever circle of hell murderers end up in – understood the stupidity of getting involved during a war especially with a fellow Gundam pilot. It made my head hurt realising that all my actions were leading up to some kinda attempt on his life.

"You're quiet."

"I'm thinking."

"Stop thinking… come to bed."

He turned and walked away towards the bed, the sticky sheets now discarded and the blankets from the couch replacing it. My eyes traced his back, all those scars, old and new, I could see where my hands held on too tight as he'd pounded me to the mattress.

I leaned against the bathroom doorframe watching him go. Damn, it wasn't perfect, I wasn't sure if it was love or lust or something else but there was something that always brought us back together. Somehow we were connected. I had this weird feeling that we'd always end up like this – that it was me and him til the end of time.

"Round two, babe?"

He didn't need to say anything in response. Yeah, I still had no clue what the fuck we were doing but right now, it really didn't matter.

 


	9. You Don't Even Know Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - You are Not - Young Guns

**Chapter Nine**

**You Don't Even Know Me**

I woke up to find myself tangled in blankets as far away from Heero as possible in the small bed. It wasn't a full double so our limbs had got entangled and my hair had managed to get trapped under his arm. His breathing was steady which suggested he was sleeping but I couldn't tell if he was awake and pretending. I tried to move but with him lying on my goddamn braid I stood no chance without waking him. I successfully managed to untangle myself from the blankets and looked at the ceiling of the room, he moved a little which gave me the leverage to free my hair so I crept out of the bed and found my duffle. He didn't stir which kinda persuaded me of the fact he was awake and pretending to be asleep. Whatever. I really don't understand that guy.

The emergency pack of smokes lived in my duffle. Technically, I didn't smoke. It was an occasional thing but I felt like I needed it right now. Considering I'd say my personality had all the hallmarks of being addictive, I'd managed to control it a little. Which meant sometimes I'd wear those fun patches.

I opened the window that I'd crept in through the first night and climbed out onto the fire escape wearing only a boxers and tank. I sat on the metallic grating and dangled my legs down through the bars and lit one. I'm sure Heero wouldn't approve just as Quatre hadn't. It was something bad and unhealthy – it was like his view on alcohol.

I took a few deep drags and decided I didn't need it so I threw it down to the ground below and opened the window creeping back in. Though Heero wasn't in bed. I could hear the shower and my mind conjured up the appropriate image. It made me groan a little. It was a problem being around him – my hormones were on fire, my brain confused and my body responded how the hell it wanted. And none of it was helping.

He walked out of the bathroom looking every bit as good as my mind had come up with, a low slung towel round his hips. I walked over to take a shower and thought about having it cold. We briefly touched as I passed him and it was enough of an electric shock to make body want to respond. I was probably too bruised and sore for anything this morning but I was still a young guy. My body betrayed me.

I showered using the time to calm my hormones down as seriously it wasn't helping. I was glad to see my body had a similar effect on him as I left the shower in nothing more than a towel, my hair down to let it dry a little, he was staring though I wasn't trying to get his attention. Or at least I thought I wasn't but I didn't mind the way he was looking at me at all. His blue eyes were following me around the room as he sat on his laptop doing his best not to look at me too hard.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

He swallowed and returned to his laptop. I chuckled to myself as I started to dress – I wasn't sure where we stood this morning but I couldn't help the teasing. It felt like slipping into an old role.

"Get dressed. We have to go and meet Wufei."

"'Fei's coming?" I asked, looking over my shoulder as I grabbed my jeans from near the bed. The trail of clothes showed the evidence of what had happened last night.

"He has sensitive information. There seems to be a problem within the Preventers and leaking confidential intelligence."

"So they have someone in the Preventers selling information? Aren't Preventer salaries high enough?"

Money had really started to mean nothing to me but I was well aware of what money meant to other people. Having been dirt poor since birth, now that I had money I didn't know how to spend it – hell, if this shit ever worked itself out and I became Duo Maxwell again, I'd ask Q how to invest it. It seemed like random figures in front of my eyes.

"Wufei wants to keep any knowledge of Quatre's movement between us and him."

"Yeah, but how confidential can it be? Surely, there's a ton of Winner Corp staff, Trowa and his security team, at least a few of his sisters, shit, if I can think of a ton of people, there must be more."

I'd finished dressing and took the chair opposite his at the table, running a brush through my hair. He reached out and for a second I thought about elbowing him in the face. I didn't as he touched my still very wet hair, one strand in his fingers.

"I like it down."

"Yeah, one and only time, babe. It's a bitch if I keep it down."

I got a smile, an actual genuine smile that I frowned at. It made something deep inside me hurt. Heero confused me. He always had. I was already trying to put barriers up but they hadn't gone up quick enough. I was falling down the rabbit hole. Shit.

I stood to find a towel to rough dry it some more and then decided to give up and go ahead and braid it sitting on the couch. He was shutting down the laptop as I finished, tying it off with elastic and discarding the brush back into my go bag.

"So where we meeting the Wu-Man?"

"Motel."

"Classy place?"

"No."

"Hooker and roaches place?"

He nodded and explained we were going to a motel named the Red Roof that was deep in the middle of strip club and hooker central. It wasn't that far from Black Velvet. Gotta love the District. Everywhere is so classy. I grabbed my hooded sweatshirt and zipped it up, giving him a cocky grin.

"You always take me to the nicest places."

We left, a gun on each of us, my flick knife in my pocket and exited via the alley behind Wired and headed to the street. As we entered the street, me following a step behind Heero, I felt a strange sensation as we walked into the open. It was that awful suspicious feeling of being watched – I knew the hairs on the back of my neck had stood up and my survival instincts had kicked in.

I stopped him for a second, my hand gripping his thin wrist and he looked at me and nodded. "Separate?" I mouthed quietly.

He brushed his lips against mine in the briefest of kisses before he went back towards the alley and disappeared leaving me stood in the street. I casually leaned against the wall outside Wired for a second and tried to work out where someone could have been watching us from but there had been no one in the alley. I scanned the windows and then the roofs – no fucking idea. But it was bad. I knew coming back to L2 was a bad idea and being that we were now being watched made me feel a little sick. What did they know? Were we just suspicious as we were new to L2? Or had someone, somewhere made us as Preventer agents and now we were officially fucked?

I pushed off the wall and walked through the street, pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt and walked quickly but not too damn quickly. If it was one person, perhaps the fact we'd separated might have confused them – I kinda hoped they'd followed Heero. I suppose he was least recognisable of the pair of us if someone did remember a braided kid from L2 fighting in a big ass machine. Or he might just kill someone. Plus he'd be able to do it quick and without fuss – snap the neck, done, kablam.

I walked, keeping my head down, and people looked in my direction but seemed to ignore me. I looked shifty but this was the District in L2 – most peopled looked shifty. I knew where the motel was but I hadn't had the contact with 'Fei so didn't know which room he was in or anything else. Damn, we really weren't good at this working together thing. I took a long way round to try and confuse shit if someone had been following me but I didn't have that feeling anymore. Maybe I'd lost them. Maybe they had followed Heero – whatever, I decided to just make contact.

The motel wasn't that far from Black Velvet. It was by the hour. I saw the office, the neon sign either not on during the day or not working and walked in. I guessed Wufei used his usual name so I knew what to say. The woman behind the desk wore a low cut top and high shiny boots with stiletto spikes that she rested in front of her. She wore a ton of makeup but I flashed a winning smile.

"I'm expected, darlin'. A Mr Black."

"Room 125, hun," she said with a drawl. I guess Wufei had told her that he was expecting visitors. She gave me a very hard look up and down my body and then looked at my hair. Guess she thought I was a hooker. Which was fine. I suppose. Or maybe not. Jesus, was everything about sex on L2? "Paid for 3 hours, sweetheart, you're in for a ride."

"Sure, all part of the job."

I walked out of the office and towards the rooms. 125 was the first floor so I made my way up the metallic stairs until I arrived at the room. The curtains were closed, they were an awful yellowy colour that looked damn sickly. This wasn't a nice place but I coulda guessed that. Crumby motel room in the District = hookers and drugs. I really didn't want to come into contact with any furniture or blankets or pillows or anything.

I knocked twice with two hard raps. Five answered. I confirmed with two again and then I stepped back. The door opened and I walked swiftly inside, barely looking back. The door slammed quickly behind me.

I looked round the pathetic motel room and its depressing appearance and then to the man stood behind me, checking through a small slit in the curtains. He stood up straight and his eyes looked straight into mine and then gave me a surveying glance.

"Where's Yuy?"

"We think we're being watched. We separated."

"Watched?"

"We're not sure but I got this feeling. We separated to confuse shit. He'll be here – it's Heero, you know his devotion towards missions and all."

His black eyes focused on my face and I damned my pale complexion. The bruise looked worse than it felt – in fact, I thought it gave me a tough street fighter look that would only help in my tough guy cover. It made me look like I'd been in a bar brawl. Always a good thing when you're meant to be a badass.

"He hit you?"

"Yeah… but I hit him first."

He stepped towards me, a hand gently on my jaw and he looked concerned.

"I shouldn't have put you together."

"No, seriously, 'Fei, its nothing. A little fight, we made up and everything…"

By fucking, I thought, but didn't say it out loud. He was looking at me very intensely in a way I'd always hated. He was seeing right through me. His eyes darted down my body to my wrist which he lifted to see where the bruises were developing from where Heero had held them so goddamn tight. You couldn't see it on the tattooed arm but you could on the other. And it was the imprint of finger marks. I jerked away from his grasp feeling suddenly like I was being judged. He was so good at making me feel like I'd been stupid. And I was already kinda feeling confused about last night's sexcapades.

"What did he do?" he said.

"Shit, 'Fei, its fine. I'm not hurt, okay? I'm a big boy, I can handle him."

"Maxwell… you two…didn't?"

"I don't see why it's any of your business."

"I'm your handler… it effects both of your abilities to work together."

"So that's it, huh? You only want to know because you're my handler?"

I knew I was being a little mean, I knew he had a little thing for me. He never came out and said it but the way he'd touched me said it was more than a little friendly concern. I thought, when my mind wandered a little bit, that maybe me and Wufei could potentially be good together. He'd certainly be calmer than Heero. It probably wouldn't end up with us beating shit out of each other which had tended to happen with us. But I didn't feel anything. I was never sure what me and Heero meant but damnnit, the ride was fun.

"Yes, that's the only reason I would be remotely interested in your sex life."

I took a seat on the edge of the bed, the fight kinda gone out of me and sat on the dirty yellow covers. I'd forgotten my deal to myself – no touching stuff in the hooker motel. I sighed and decided to answer, my eyes completely avoiding his, instead I looked at a browny stain on the carpet. Kinda looked like blood.

"Yeah, we fucked. It doesn't matter."

"It matters, Duo. It always matters. You two and this stupid… relationship. Neither of you are any good to a mission when you're too busy with each other."

I glared at him trying to come up with the best argument I could but my thoughts were stopped as there was a knock at the door – a knock belonging to the object of this fight. Wufei let Heero in barely looking at him.

"Yuy," he said, coldly. I mean ice was literally dripping from his voice – I know not literally but I'd never heard 'Fei be so cold to anyone.

"Chang," Heero replied.

"Were you followed?"

"I evaded them."

"Good."

I looked between them realising the testosterone level had gone significantly in the room all down to little old me. Jesus, I wasn't even part of this display of masculine hostility. I was gonna make a comment about just getting out dicks and comparing sizes but realised it was totally inappropriate considering everything. I have some goddamn restraint.

Wufei gave Heero a very stern look as he saw the bruise on his face. Least it proved my point. I had punched him. I wasn't some pathetic chick who should be protected from a violent lover. 'Fei didn't get that I wasn't the innocent party in whatever the hell this relationship was… I was just as pissy and aggressive.

"So… what's the personal visit for?" I asked to stop the tension in the room. "Not that we don't wanna see ya but I've never had contact while I've been undercover before."

Black eyes turned back to me which seemed better than the staring contest that had been going on between Wufei and Heero.

"Winner arrived on L2 yesterday. I escorted him."

Well that was a shocker.

"Quat's on L2? Couldn't you just persuade him to keep the fuck away?"

"Barton tried. I believe it is a battle even he cannot win."

"Stubborn motherfucker."

"Takes one to know one."

I scowled back at Wufei for a second then decided it was kinda funny. It was damn near a joke. I cracked a little smile.

"Who knows he's here?" Heero asked.

"Myself, Barton, and now both of you."

"So just the five of us?" I asked, surprised. It was like the old team was back together but I doubted that with Q's high profile that anything could be kept that secret.

"Yes."

"That's impossible," Heero said, leaning against the wall, his arms across his chest. "There must be some records."

"We used a commercial container shuttle. It was a very unusual journey."

"There is always a trace. Identity documentation. Security feeds. You admit yourself that the Preventers are no longer secure. Your involvement is traceable."

"Yuy, this was done with the utmost level of confidentiality."

Heero grunted in response, radiating hostility. He didn't need to say anything else as it was damn clear he wasn't listening to Wufei's opinion and sure as hell wasn't gonna back down. I stepped in.

"Why come? Why does he actually need to be here? It's not like he doesn't run a bazillion dollar company with tons of staff. He's gotta take the terrorist threat seriously."

"He believes he is. He is defying it to try and prove the peace we fought for was achieved and no terrorist threat can destroy that."

I shook my head. It was so Quatre. Believing the best in people, being determined, trying to show that peace worked and not being afraid of the bad guys. Why did he have to be so goddamn noble and shit? And why couldn't Trowa just convince him his life was more important than this? Jesus, I wanted to speak to blondie and tell him there was no time to be idealistic.

"Where is he?"

Wufei looked between us. "Confidential."

I think my mouth dropped. "You can't tell us?"

"No."

"Wow, watch the power trip on you, 'Fei. Can't even tell us. You must be real important."

Heero gave a slight smirk at the level of sarcasm that was in my voice.

"It's not a  _power trip._ We are trying to protect Winner."

I shrugged. "Ain't we all?"

We were all doing this glaring thing at each other. This was so not going well. I had always had no real problems with working for 'Fei, he was a good guy, the whole noble and honour stuff made me trust him. And I couldn't imagine why Heero would have a problem with him unless it was still all to do with him hiding us from each other. And me. My thoughts were stopped as Heero spoke.

"Duo's meeting Dallas alone."

Wufei looked over at me and then back to Heero.

"Tell on me why dontcha?" I said with a glare at him.

"Alone?"

"Yeah, you only gave Heero enough cash to get one of us in so I volunteered as Mr Yuy over there is as convincing as a criminal as I am being a goddamn mute."

My eyes drifted over to the other bed where a sport bag sat, my guess it was my cover – the large amount of explosives.

"When?"

"Soon. Just waiting for the contact from the gunrunners, a dude called Antoine who, by the way, when you come down on Dallas' crew, make sure you arrest that asshole as well."

"Do you have evidence?"

"I have plenty," Heero said darkly. "Upload my laptop."

Wufei nodded and seemed to be thinking. "Maxwell, you need to be wired if you are going in alone."

"Wired? You must be fucking kidding me? I know the whole death shtick is like my thing but come on, I don't actually have a death wish."

"It's small, it'll be inserted under the skin like your tracker was. The signal will be low frequency but enough to reach Yuy who will maintain cover at Wired. Yuy can record any relevant conversations and forward them onto me – only me."

He looked between us as he spoke. Heero seemed like he wanted back up from 'Fei about me not going in but had given up on that argument and was scowling at both of us. Death Glare? Check. 'Fei wandered over to the sports bag and brought out a small envelope – shook it out into the palm of his hand and there was the tiniest little recording device I'd ever seen. It was kinda cute. Then I thought, yeah, it's going inside my skin. Not so cute. When I'd had a tracker inserted it had been in a sterile doctor's surgery with a nice Preventer employed doctor. It had been with anaesthetic. And it had been thoroughly painless.

I think I must have looked kinda apprehensive as I felt a hand on shoulder – a gentle touch and I spun round to see Heero there behind me. I hadn't even heard him come across the room.

"Where does it go?"

"You're wrist. It will be very shallow cut."

I wanted to be childish and go yuk. I know I shouldn't be at all squeamish, I'd killed plenty of people in my time and I'd seen even more die in front of me but I had a thing about wrists. I'd seen slashed wrists when I was a kid – a lot of people took the easy way out and I'd seen it too many times. It was probably why I hated Heero when he self-destructed or tried to end the war dead. I wondered how the hell he was going to do it - there were veins and shit there, I looked at my none tattooed arm and guessed it would be my right arm. I didn't want a nice scar to ruin the hours spent inking the other arm.

"I'll need alcohol," 'Fei said glancing to Heero.

"Yeah, I'll need it too, 'Ro."

Heero squeezed my shoulder and left, leaving me and Wufei alone. He was looking at his med kid and avoiding my eyes. It continued without us speaking for a few uncomfortable minutes until I couldn't stand it anymore.

"'Fei, don't judge me. I don't think it was a good idea the thing with Heero but it just kinda happened."

He shook his head. "I don't judge you. You are a grown man who can make whatever mistakes you want to."

"You think it's a mistake?"

"I think it's an unneeded complication."

Complication? Fuck yeah. Unneeded? I wasn't so sure. Yeah, some part of me needed what had happened, it resolved some things and it sure as hell got rid of any sexual frustration. But I wasn't going to have this conversation with Wufei.

"Are you ready for Dallas?"

His words brought me back to the real reason I was here. Quatre and the gang that wanted to kill him. This wasn't about me and Heero even though it was becoming a part of the great tragic tale of our lives. Our interconnected lives.

"As I'll ever be – he really can't be that bad, can he?"

"That's your job to find out."

He smiled at me and I thought, you know what, behind the whole lone wolf thing, Wufei was a kind and caring guy. It fucked with my head to see why he was interested in lil old me. Me and Heero I could see… we were both totally damaged, reckless idiots embroiled in this passionate and angry relationship. I couldn't understand why someone like Wufei would ever think I was worth the risk. I suppose he didn't know me, didn't know who I really was, he had this idea of me that wasn't me. I looked away from him and thought about the mission.

"How is Quatre?"

"Stressed, tired, isolated. Maybe even scared though he will not admit it."

"None of us ever do, do we?"

Wufei smiled. "No. Showing weakness is not our forte."

And for a second I realised how close we were and that he was right in front of me. His lips were damn close. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to move and I didn't move away. Damn, I should push him away, I should say my heart belonged to Heero and no one else but he looked so open… that I couldn't do it.

The knock at the door stopped the moment. And Wufei let Heero back in holding two bottles – one which looked like paint stripper vodka and the other was an imitation Jack Daniels, similar black label though I bet it didn't taste at all like it. He handed Wufei the vodka as he busied himself getting together the required items from his portable med kit. I removed my hoodie and took the imitation JD. I opened the bottle and took a swig. Oh shit, not nice stuff. It burned and I coughed a little.

"Duo?"

"It's strong and bad."

"Just drink it."

"'Kay."

I took a few swigs which would take some of the edge off the small amount of surgery. I wasn't being a wuss about this. Really. It was just the sort of thing you usually get done in a nice white room. Not a dirty hooker motel.

I offered my arm to Wufei who now had some little knives and was looking like he was really concentrating. He put on some latex gloves and stared. He wasn't doing anything but he was poised to.

"You do know what you're doing, right?"

"I believe so."

"Believe?"

That's when he made the incision and I had no confidence since he'd just said "believe" and for a second, I was expecting blood to start spraying. An artery or something. I decided to take another swig of the alcohol. It was safer.

Heero was watching carefully behind him which I could imagine was really distracting. It was like if you piloted next to Heero. He made you feel so uncomfortable about your abilities that it was easier to just let him pilot. I'm sure that's why he'd learnt to glare like that – like he was gonna rip your head off. It unsettled people and it got him his own way.

It was over pretty quick, Wufei put the chip in, used some fake skin, stitched it all together while I purposefully not looking. He poured some of the vodka on to disinfect it which hurt like a motherfucking bitch and then swabbed it clean. I was feeling slightly buzzed being that I had managed to consume a third of the bottle during the process and it was strong. I can hold my liquor with the best of them but I sometimes wondered what the hell was in the alcohol in L2. It was like moonshine. It must have so many impurities. I looked at my wrist and it looked normal. It was like I'd got the smallest little cut. And considering how many cuts and wounds covered my body it was nothing unusual.

"Nice job, 'Fei."

I went to the bathroom to clean up and then returned so that Wufei could put a small bandage round it and I realised they had been talking about me but not to me, you know, which was probably because I was buzzed but I was feeling out of the loop. I don't know what was said but they were glaring at each other again. I glanced at Wufei searching for where he could hide a katana underneath his cream trench coat and then to Heero who I knew was armed. The tension was pretty bad.

"So we done?" I said to lighten the mood.

"Yes," Heero answered.

Heero grabbed the sports bag with the explosives in and we moved to leave. I looked back at Wufei who was putting his med kit right and then went to pour out the alcohol down the sink. I thought about saying something – asking him to say something to Quatre even though for our cover he needed to think we were dead or disappeared but I couldn't. I wanted to say sorry to 'Fei for if I'd ever done anything to think he had a chance with me – if I'd been a tease or made him believe that we coulda had something. But I couldn't, not with Heero with me, and I wanted to thank him. He didn't doubt me. Knew I was good at my job. Knew I could take down Dallas and save the day. I wanted to thank him for his faith in me. Instead I waved a little half-hearted wave and left following Heero out into the District.

We arrived back at the apartment and I flopped down on the bed, the blankets on the bed still smelt of sex and I must have started to fall asleep. After all, we'd only got a few hours sleep last night and the alcohol had gone, like, straight to my head. I drifted for a while until I felt a hand on my face waking me straight away. I felt for a gun. I was not used to being woken. I realised I'd got to my flick knife automatically before I realised the hand and voice was Heero's.

"You have to meet Dallas."

Now I was fully awake.

"When?"

"Now."

Fuck.

 


	10. Leave the Lies for Liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Hospital - the Used

**Chapter Ten**

**Leave the Lies for Liars**

The day cycle was ending as I approached the hospital alone. The District had come to life being that it was now the time to make the money and the customers were ready to get their kicks whichever way they preferred. I held the sports bag with explosives, the gun in my back pocket and suddenly felt really alone. It was weird, I was used to working alone being that it was what I'd done for the past three years but just having Heero back in my life for the last few days had made me remember I really do suck at being alone. I was so great at running and pushing people away but it only hurt myself, I'd ended up isolated and lying to myself that I was fine. Well done, Duo, finally working out you are the idiot people say you are.

I'd left Heero in front of Wired. I didn't know why he followed me out of the apartment but I didn't complain when he kissed me – his arms holding me tightly, his hands in the pockets of my jeans and my arms round his waist. It felt right, you know. Despite the years and the growth spurts, I fitted in with his body and my face only had to tilt a little to meet his lips. I was kinda just going with it – fighting with his tongue, and knowing that if this continued I wasn't gonna make it to the rendezvous at the hospital. I broke off a little and gave him a lopsided smirk.

"I gotta go."

"Don't die."

"Promise ya, no dying, no stupidity, no recklessness. I'll come back."

He nodded and I realised his eyes were scanning behind me which I thought was kinda rude being that I was doing a whole speech that promised I was coming back alive. For  _him._ The whole speech should have been a proof of some kinda feelings that I wasn't going into right now but I was being vaguely romantic and he wasn't paying attention.

"My face is here."

"There's someone watching."

"Maybe because we're two guys making out?"

"They took photographs."

Bad. I should just move but my feet didn't respond. "'Ro?"

His eyes returned to my face, the steeliness gone and there was a weird kinda gentleness when he looked at me. "I have a bad feeling."

I gave him a devil may care grin. "If they're taking pictures, might as well give them something interesting to look at."

I pushed him towards the wall and kissed the life outta him, his hands grabbed my hair, twirling my braid round it and pulled me close. He let me dominate, push him around, let my hands roam over his skin and I realised we were getting far too hot and heavy for outside. I pulled away, his hand still wrapped in my hair. "They still watching?"

He nodded.

I gave him the briefest of kisses, letting my lips meet his lightly and moved away, his hand drifted from my hair to his side and he looked troubled.

"I'm gonna be fine."

"Look after yourself."

"You too, Heero."

I turned and briefly looked over my shoulder as he slumped against the wall as though my body had been supporting him, keeping him upright and I realised he really was struggling with some internal shit. His eyes watched me go, the intensity of his glare saying everything, he was more than worried about letting me go, he was goddamn scared. I turned away and clocked our photographer who was now dispersing into the crowd and thought, this sure as hell got complicated.

Now that I approached the hospital, his kiss still on my lips I could see where Dallas kept his guards and the sniper on the roof. This time, the gun was trained on me, I gave the dude a little wave sarcastically as I approached the three guards stood next to a burnt out car. They were watching but let me get close before they pulled out their weapons. I dropped the bag and held my arms out in surrender as the girl who we'd seen the other day approached me.

I guessed she was about seventeen. She looked young, And that troubled me. She was trying to hide her body underneath a heavy hoodie and a pair of unflattering and baggy jeans – hell I wouldn't wear them but then I know the skinny jean look works for me and it has a certain blue eyed fan. But though she hid her body, or was trying to, her eyes were bright and her eyelashes really long – her face was feminine despite the attempts at the fierce eye liner and make up. She had to project tough – I knew her pain. I'd always been the boy with the long hair and the pretty blue eyes – gangs were not kind on me when I was a kid. Or they hadn't been until I beat the shit out of someone. I was all innocent and fragile looking until I knifed someone. Solo had thought the same as everyone when I was kid.

I remembered him clapping and smiling approvingly at me, coming out of the shadows from behind a dumpster as the kid, two years older than me and a helluva lot bigger than I was, started rolling around the floor in agony. Jesus, I really can't remember the kids name but he was shouting in pain. For a second I was terrified when Solo appeared, his slow clap confused the hell outta me being that I was so young and didn't understand. I guess it had always been my way of fighting, punch me and I'll punch back, get me into a corner and I'll claw my way out. That kid had thought I was an easy target. He learnt his lesson.

"What did he say to you, kiddo?"

"He called me girly."

"And you broke his nose and his arm?"

I'd nodded trying not to cry. I was like barely six years old and I was worried that I was gonna get thrown outta the gang. I was in awe with him at that time.

"What's your name?"

I'd shrugged. I didn't have one and I was still a kid. I didn't know what the hell to say as he knelt down and touched my shoulder.

"You'll be my number two from now on, kiddo… Duo to my Solo. That 'kay with you?"

I remember nodding and not much else, I think I gave him a watery smile but I was too young. It was too long ago. I shrugged off the memory as the girl pointed her weapon at me. I got the impression she was not used to guns being that she didn't know how to hold it quite right. I wanted to make a comment about holding the thing properly but I wasn't going to help the person who is, you know, potentially trying to kill me tips on posture and how to hold a weapon properly.

"I'm here to see Dallas."

"Name?"

"Domino."

She glanced at me, taking in my entire body from head to foot.

"You armed?"

I retrieved the gun from my back pocket offered her it. She took it and handed it to one of the guys who I gave a glance towards. They all seemed young. They were all around my age, not tough ass terrorists and I really began to wonder why I was here as I wasn't patted down, wasn't checked for additional weapons which seemed amateurish. It was awesome for me being that I still had a flick knife on me but it seemed childish. Kids playing with guns. Suppose I know how it feels. I was fifteen piloting a weapon of mass destruction. I'd grown up way too fast. So had Heero. So had all of us. We'd played soldier before we'd known anything else.

"Follow me."

She gestured towards the grey hospital that looked even more depressing against the darkening colony sky, a shell of a building. I grabbed the sports bag and followed looking closely at the hospital. It had suffered some damage over the years. Windows were smashed and had been replaced by wooden boards, there was graffiti staining the walls with loads of different messages – there was everything from "I wuz here" crap to an elaborate sugar skull that was kinda beautiful. I looked at it, the diamond eyes staring back at me as we walked, it was quite the thing. I thought about my own tattoos and thought the skull thing could look good. I wondered if Heero had liked my body with the ink on it. And then I thought whether it mattered if he did.

I turned my attention to her. She was short, petite and unable to hold a gun properly. What the hell was she doing in a gang? In a badass gang? This puzzled me.

"What's your name?"

"Zadie but everyone calls me Zee."

"Zee, huh? Cool."

"Why you asking?"

"I like to get to know people."

"Good for you."

"So how long you been here?"

"All my life. No one ever gets outta of the District."

"No, in the gang, darlin'."

She stopped in front of me spinning around in an angry way. I'd hit a button apparently. I dropped the bag and reached for the knife in my pocket in a quick gesture. I wasn't sure what the hell she was gonna do but with the way she held a gun, I had no confidence in her not shooting me.

"No one calls me darling, sweetheart, or any of that shit."

I chuckled and held my hands up in mock surrender. I'd stopped my hand going for the knife as I realised she wasn't really a threat. I could just lash out and get the gun if needed but she was harmless, a kitty cat.

"Shit, Zee, point taken. No nicknames."

The little altercation made me smirk as we walked the remaining distance to the hospital. I wasn't sure what her role in the gang was but being that she was ridiculously defensive about being accused of being remotely girly, my guess was she was having a hard time. So why would Dallas keep a chick around who couldn't defend herself? My theory of her being a second in command had evaporated. She wasn't even worth having. Harsh as it sounds but in any gang you have to pay your way, you have to be able to bring something to the group and if you can't then you're a drain. When I was a kid if you couldn't steal and look after yourself then you were useless. I'd seen Solo throw kids out for not paying their way. They probably died or got into the sex or drug trade. I didn't think about it.

We entered the hospital at what was once the emergency room. The doors were automatic but had long since given up. Instead, the glass had been knocked out and we went through that. It was dark in the hospital as I wondered if they had power in the building. The cold that hit me as I entered suggested that they didn't. It had been forgotten, abandoned so it made sense that it had no power but then I couldn't imagine it was pleasant for the gang to be here. Then I thought about some of the places I'd stayed – yeah, there was no hole in the roof which was always an improvement.

There were a few guys around in what once would've been the waiting area, they were smoking, a few playing poker and a few just watching as I passed trying to look intimidating and shit. I shot back a glare and gave them a smirk. I wasn't going to be intimidated by them. I was meeting with Dallas.

Zee walked along a corridor and we passed the empty beds that had once been where the emergencies came in. Despite it being old and in disrepair, the place still seemed to have that sterile weird feel of a hospital. Yeah, the smell was mainly stale but it was definitely a hospital when I breathed in the air. And I hated hospitals. It brought up the image of the lost and bandaged Heero kissing me hard, holding my arms, trying to get me to stay with him… trying to persuade me that I was the one he needed. A message I didn't hear until now. Dumbass.

I shook the thoughts out of my head. Last night had proved that we were still sorting out whatever we had. And the kiss in front of Wired. And the look in his eyes. Sure, Heero, I'm coming back from this place 'cause I need to know. I need to know what we have.

We passed through some more doors so that we arrived at a ward with a nurse's station with two guards sat on top it. They were throwing balls of paper into a wastepaper basket located in the middle of the room. Whatever you wanna do for entertain. It was pretty tame entertainment for an L2 street thug. I was not really unsure about the place. And the gang. They were like pussycats compared to the fuckers I'd worked with in the past. Why were people so scared of Dallas if everyone around him was prepubescent?

Zee directed me towards what had once been an examination room and that's when I first saw Dallas. After all the hype, the pictures and the nature of the threats against Q's life I was expecting him to be more impressive. He had two guys stood by the door who were twins. They both had the same brown eyes and close shaven heads, they were both muscly and looked virtually identical apart from one had a thin line cut into his eyebrow. I'd already nicknamed them in my head. Eyebrow guy? Twin one. Other? Twin two. It was important to start identifying the gang member so I gave them a real hard look before turning my attention to the room. The examination room had been transformed and was covered in plans and pictures. Schematics of varying buildings located around L2 – the government buildings, schools, universities, shuttle port and conference centre. Then there were clippings from newspapers detailing the different parts of the L2 Project and alongside those were usually pictures of Quatre. I'd never really followed Quatre's life since the fall out being that it made me feel really bad about how I'd acted and how I'd hurt him so for the first time, I was in a room full of pictures of him.

He looked pretty much just as Wufei had said – tired, stressed, worried. His suit always seemed a little too big for him, his slicked back hair always making him seem like he was trying to play the grown up. Be the man his father wanted him to be and run the company in the ideals that his father had laid down. The one thing you appreciate being an orphan is that you can't let anyone down – you can never disappoint a mother or father. I couldn't imagine the pressure being the only male Winner child. I shoulda given him some breaks.

It amazed me as I scanned the room how many times Trowa appeared in the photographs. It was never obvious but he was there. Sometimes all you saw was a slight hint of hair but he was in the background, a suit, a gun, an earpiece. It was an amazing amount of devotion. I wondered idly if Trowa had been hurt by little comment about being bought. I never really knew Trowa, we met, like a handful of times and I think he'd have said about ten words to me in that time span but I thought briefly whether he hated my insinuation about being bought.

My eyes stopped roaming and they rested on Dallas. He was wearing similar clothes to the photographs I'd seen – a white wife beater, jeans, a studded leather jacket and the blonde hair spiked. He was smiling at me, a cigarette in his lips and he was sat up on the examination table.

"So this must the famous Domino."

"And you must be the famous Dallas."

Dallas jumped down from his position and walked towards me but bypassed me a little for Zee. He grabbed her and kissed her as she stood beside me. I watched for a second and then decided to roll my eyes in annoyance at the make out session going on beside me but then I looked again and realised he was kissing the life out of Zee, her eyes closed and like, totally into it, while he was staring at me in some kind of confrontational way. I had no idea what this was.

He let her go and then stood right in front of me, I glanced to see Zee look like her knees were about to buckle underneath her. I knew what it was like to have the life kissed out of you and sympathised.

"So… C4?"

"In the bag. Wanna look?"

He smirked cockily at me and I realised he was a motherfucker with attitude, a killer smirk and a seriously warped sense of humour. Damn, I was looking in a mirror and I didn't like it. Dallas was me if I'd not got off L2. If I'd never been a Gundam pilot. If I'd never met Heero.

"Boys."

That's all he needed to say and the twins took the bag off me and one put it down on the examination table and started looking through it. All the while Dallas was stood two inches from me and smirked. I glared back. I thought about smirking but I wasn't going to be cocky. I don't appreciate cocky shits. I had a feeling that if Dallas was like me, if I was an ass he'd hit me, lock me up, fuck me over.

"There's a lot boss."

"Antoine was right. You are serious."

"Serious as a heart attack."

He laughed at my comment and slapped my arm. It wasn't hard or anything but I looked at him wearily. He had some height on me and some weight. What he didn't have was Shinigami and no one fucks with that side of me and lives.

"So what's your price, Dom?"

"Fifty thousand and an extra ten on completion for the money I had to pay to that fuck Antoine to arrange this meeting."

He whistled and laughed. "You really worth that much, Dom?"

I stepped a little forward, experimenting a little, and looked up at him from under my hair. I made my voice husky. "I'm worth every penny."

Get this straight, I have never had sex with someone during an undercover op to get information. It was beyond dirty, degrading and soul destroying to do that and it would make me nothing more than a whore and the Preventers my pimp. Or Wufei my pimp. Jesus, that thought just conjured up an image of him in a pimp costume. Which is weird. Fuck, Maxwell, back to the point. But I knew sex is a way of getting what you want. I wanted to know which way Dallas swung and see if he was at all interested. It could be something I could use.

"I'm sure you're a firecracker in bed but I bet your boyfriend won't approve."

I suddenly felt very cold. "My boyfriend?"

"Rick."

I looked over at one of the twins who grabbed a folder that was perched on counter. He passed it to Dallas who then opened it and out spilled pictures onto the floor. They started from us walking out of Black Velvet. How the fuck hadn't we noticed that before? Then I remembered he was pissed at me as I saw the picture of him pinning me against the wall in the alleyway. And with a kinda horror, there was one of me smoking on the fire escape. Dallas held one picture back. I saw it.

It was us outside of Wired, me pinning him against the wall and his hand with my hair wrapped around it. It was weird to see how we looked, our eyes closed, our mouths locked, my body against his. I noticed we looked good together. Hot even. Dallas probably saw that I was thinking and he gave me a grin that chilled me. He showed me the picture and then dramatically ripped it in half in front of my face, the two halves falling to the floor, us separated by the rip.

"You see, I think we're gonna pay you jack shit, Dom, cause if you don't co-operate with our plans." He made his hand look like a gun and pointed a finger at my head. He made a noise like he was pretending to cock it. "Then boom to your sweetie…What do you say to that?"

"Blaise is a tough guy. You got no fucking chance of touching him."

He grabbed hold of the top of my shirt and pulled my face close to his face. "I got a man in Wired, I got a man on the opposite building roof and someone hanging around the alleyway. I'll keep someone on him 24 hours a day. And I'll kill him if you do anything that I don't like, do we understand each other?"

"What if I don't care? What if he's just my fuck buddy?"

"Dom… look at those photographs. Even I can see you're in love with the guy."

I blinked as he let me go. In love? How could you tell from a fucking photograph? Shit, this mission had gone from bad to worse. Wufei was right, our relationship, whatever it meant was going to get in the way of what I was meant to be doing. I couldn't be as effective if I worried about my actions having repercussions on Heero. At least I knew he was listening. He'd be extra careful about those guys, I could see him now in my head locating the enemy and working out ways to kill them if necessary. He couldn't just do it as if he killed those guys then it would get back to Dallas that somehow Heero knew and then it would be my life at risk. They'd work out I was feeding information out and it would end badly. Duo Maxwell: single bullet wound to the head execution style. It was a catch 22. We both had to be careful as we were both at risk from one false move from the other. Shit.

"Do we understand each other, Dom?"

"It's crystal clear."

And it was. We were in trouble. A lot. Bad feeling? No shit, Heero.

"I'm glad… now let's talk business."

 


	11. Like a Virus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Virus - Sonic Boom Six

**Chapter 11**

**Like a Virus**

The Jeep was old and had been reconstructed a load of times. A lot of the cars that you saw around in the District were reconstructed heaps of junk – old and then tinkered with by skilled mechanics whether amateur or not. I'd always kinda liked old cars, old machines, must be why I liked being a Sweeper and spending time on various rust buckets that Howard classed as working machines. The Sweepers was a world of old junk, old ships, old shuttles, pieces of antiques that constantly needed fixing and patching up. Howard himself was kinda like that – an antique of another time. At least his dress sense was.

Dallas didn't drive. Eyebrow twin did. Dallas sat in the front seat, his legs up on the dash in a position that looked particularly uncomfortable. He looked back at me lazily a few times as he held a Beretta on his lap and then stared outta the window for most of the journey. Twin two was sat beside me. He looked at me as though I might bite. Kinda thought about provoking him but then decided against it. While it would make the rest of this journey amusing for me, I was trying not to be, well, me, I suppose. Trying to be restrained, trying not to be so reckless and intentionally get my ass kicked. See, Heero? I can be a good boy. It's just a rare occurrence.

"So where's this road trip goin'? Not that I don't appreciate it and all being that you kept me locked in the hospital for two days…"

"Wait and see, Dom. Didn't any one ever tell ya about being patient?"

"Yeah I've heard it's a virtue or somethin'."

Dallas laughed darkly. "Somethin' like that."

I looked out of the window. My first two days in the hospital had been useful but totally boring. I'd quickly learnt the rhythms of the place and knew the routines. Days were spent with most of the gang sleeping after the previous night's activities. The skeleton crew of guards sat outside, the younger ones given the opportunity to do some of the guard duties to let the older ones who might actually be able to use weapons the night shifts. Once the day cycle began to change to night, the hospital came to life as the crew ate together, some kids went out to the District to do whatever the hell they did and the younger kids sat around, drinking, playing cards and did a few of the milder recreational drugs. So far, so tame.

The whole place unsettled me more than any other place I'd ever stayed on an undercover operation. I thought of the sex traffic ring. The warehouse had been real grim – sleeping bags on dirty floors, kids locked in tiny rooms, a smell of shit and sweat and blood all around. The sorta guys who'd worked the sex traffic ring had been all cold hearted assholes, all older and all hardened criminals. Most of the gang were kids. Yeah, Dallas had the twins and I'd seen a few dudes who I'd say had a bit of a hard ass attitude but most of the gang seemed so young, so inexperience, just so… childish, you know. These were just a bunch of kids playing with guns and that, my friends, made it all feel like the operation had fallen into the grey area. I don't like grey – it's like blacks ill kid brother. The kids weren't enemies to me, they were all skittish, which in itself is bad. Give a kid a gun and no training and it's a fucking nightmare. I was more worried about being accidentally shot round the hospital than ending up with a bullet in my head. I'd shown one kid how to put the safety on who was carrying a piece in his front pocket. Somewhere as a guy you  _really_  don't want to put a cocked weapon is in the front pocket of your jeans, know what I'm saying?

Dallas had kept me on lockdown. I wasn't confined to a room but I wasn't allowed free movement around the hospital. A dude called Lance had guarded me, taken me to piss and eat and become a cute little shadow for me. I kinda thought Lance was the worse guard ever from Dallas' perspective. He was a talker which was awesome for me. He didn't know much, there were very few of the gang that were allowed in Dallas' inner sanctum and a lotta the kids seemed to resent the twins and Zee who were. It didn't take long to discover that most of the kids didn't know shit, they didn't have some vendetta against Winner Corp, hell, some hadn't even heard of Quatre Raberba Winner when I prodded a few of them. They didn't even know what the L2 Project was. I suppose Dallas was keeping the cards close to his chest because of someone like me. I was the Preventer asshole in this situation.

The kids may not know about Winner Corp or anything but they knew about Dallas. He provided them with food, cash for drinks and drugs, and a roof over their heads. For that, they all loved him and were willing to do anything for him. I got that loyalty. I'd been willing to do anything for Solo as it stopped me ending up cold, alone and hungry. Dallas was also kinda charismatic and a cool guy, people would do a lot for that kinda person. I glanced over at the front seat, at the casual and lazy position his body was in and thought, hell yeah, I could see the attraction of following someone like that. When I was a kid with nothing and was given the opportunity to do something, I'd taken it, got my ass off this shitty colony and attempted to make something more outta my life. Just didn't expect to make it through two wars in one piece and be back on said shitty colony.

The Jeep began to slow down as we reached the newer and well maintained buildings of L2. It seemed as we pulled up on a fancy street that the light was better in this area. I kinda wondered if maybe the government decided not to light the District properly and the poor areas and decided to give full power to where people didn't live on drugs, booze and crime. It would make sense, I guess. The people that actually contributed towards the colony could get sunlight, the rest of you can live in darkness and squalor. I could imagine it of money saving bureaucrats.

Dallas nodded towards twin two as we pulled up and then trained his dark eyes on me.

"We're getting out."

"Whatever you say, D."

I got out and I noticed that twin two was obviously assigned to guard my ass and stop me from running away. Maybe they thought their insurance with having a hit out on Heero wasn't enough to stop that. Whatever, they seemed cautious of me which was either a good or a bad thing. Sometimes it was better to be underestimated but Dallas was too cautious – wondered if he'd be mad if he found out I was still carrying my flick knife because I wasn't searched by Zee and her friends. Hell, maybe as she was his honey she'd be free from punishment. Gangs were harsh. Justice was done on their own terms. I looked towards Dallas. I wondered what his terms were.

Dallas got out and I noticed his gun either wasn't with him or he'd hidden it well. Suppose he couldn't walk around armed in this place. As I glanced around, we were in what was kinda the business heart of the colony. Large buildings loomed above us and I looked up at them. It didn't seem like the same colony. How could you have a place that was a testament to the world of capitalism and money making only a short distance from a world of crime and depravity? You've got the District where people do whatever to get highs and live in shitty apartments and abandoned hospitals and then you've got sleek offices, government buildings, huge chain hotels and a park. I'd been to so many cities like this in the past. Everywhere had this – the mix of rich and poor, the mask of civility over the top of the world of darkness.

"We're goin' for a lil walk," Dallas said.

"Lead the way, man."

I walked alongside him towards the park. The area all seemed pretty new – I didn't really remember places like this from when I was kid being that I had no reason to come to a government building or an office building. I didn't know if this area had always been like this or things had been done after the war to improve the colony. The only thing I thought was that it might have been a good place to come steal. Rich people always made the easiest marks – phones, jewellery, cash, bags, it was always easy but then you had to venture out of the poor areas and then with ill-fitting clothes and dirty faces, street kids were easy to spot and get caught. It had always been the fear that we'd get caught and end up in the juvenile detention centres or a really bad orphanage. I'd been lucky, I guess.

I sighed and shoved my hands into my jean pockets as I walked beside him. The park was nothing like the one in the District near the abandoned hospital. The grass was such a bright green that I wanted to bend down and touch to find out whether it was artificial. I guessed it was. The trees that dotted the path that cut through the green looked real enough. I kinda wanted to know what we were doing here. Dallas walked beside me, twin two seemed to be trailing us but keeping a close eye on me. We must've looked outta place. It was probably lunch break time in the office buildings as we passed by men and women in suits and smart dresses eating on benches. Here was Dallas, bandana, leather jacket, studded belt and me, black jeans that had holes in at the knee, a faded grey t shirt and a sleeve full of tattoos.

It seemed we got to Dallas' point as we stopped in front of a large piece of stone. He leaned against the edge of it, his arms folded and his eyes glanced towards a couple of suits not far from us. I looked to the words engraved on the stone and was kinda surprised.

**_~ To the nameless and silent victims. L2 Virus AC 187 ~_ **

The stone had black shining letters making it appear like a gravestone. It was large, uncompromising and contained only those words. It made me scratch the back of my head. This was a beautiful but very artificial park in the middle of a load of office buildings. Why the hell was there a memorial to plague victims? Hell, the only people who died of the virus were the poor. Anyone in this part of L2 would survive – they coulda afforded the vaccine, coulda stopped their own children from dying as the street kids choked on their own blood. Dallas obviously had a point in bringing me here. Maybe some kinda proof that I was a street kid from L2. Something like that.

"You lose someone, blue eyes?"

I tried to be casual but the whole thing had blindsided me. I sure as hell hadn't thought about Solo for years up until the point I'd got back to L2. I remembered what it was like to have my hands covered in his blood, those last few days as he vomited his insides out in coughing fits, as his clothes became stained, as I goddamn tried to steal the vaccination in time, and then the final few breaths in my arms. That death rattle was the most harrowing sound I'd ever heard. Not being able to breathe through tattered lungs, my hands covered in bright red blood and then that final moment. He was in no condition to talk then. He'd long since ripped his throat to shreds so it was silent, just the slow dropping away and then dying. I'd seen some of the other kids go. We'd leave them behind knowing that for the good of the rest of the gang, they had to die but I stayed for him. As I held the vaccination in my hand, it was the start of my life of losing people. Something I seemed to be particularly good at. I knew why I'd pushed Heero away – I was so used to losing people that I didn't want to let someone in again. I didn't want to hurt like that again.

I looked back at Dallas and tried to give him a trademark smirk. I thought about suggesting a trip to the former site of the Maxwell Church. Might as well complete the Duo Maxwell L2 tour of pain. But you know, being that I was Domino that point was kinda moot.

"Yeah, I lost someone. Didn't everybody?"

"Sure did."

I looked around the park, seeing even an artificial pond with one of those dinky little bridges over it, koi fish bobbing at the surface as people in suits looked at them. The air, oddly stale in a colony, seemed to blow stronger here than in the stifling closeness of the District and I felt the bangs ruffle around my face, obscuring my vision. I touched the stone in front of me, feeling the thick granite against my fingers, it felt cold to the touch and solid. A monument to the dead. It made me miss the cross that I used to wear around my neck – the priest collar that had been both penance and a choke hold, I knew my fingers would grab towards the Celtic cross on my arm, my monument to the dead, inked onto already scarred skin. Dallas' eyes were on me.

"This was the first part of the L2 Project before it became the L2 Project," Dallas explained. "Monument Park."

I wondered whether this park was the first time they'd tried to reach out to me. I'd told Quatre the story of my first name, shit, years ago when we were with the Maganacs after Heero's amazing blowing the shit outta himself stunt. I suppose I was a little vulnerable at the time and spilled my guts out – I also bluntly told him that I'd been fucking pilot 01 so, you know, he had a lot of my crazy shit to digest. I didn't tell him about the church, think it might have broken his little space heart to hear the whole sorry tale. I wanted to shake my head and laugh but I couldn't in front of Dallas. I just wish Quatre had left me alone – just come to the conclusion that I was the loser ex-Gundam pilot that might've ended up in a ditch somewhere. Shit, Quat, you should've just left me. I'm so not worth any of this. Heero's words stuck in my head – "the whole goddamn L2 Project is for you" as I looked at the stone. My eyes returned back to Dallas' mocking face. He knew I was thinking about something from my past and he was enjoying the look on my face. I kinda hoped that my usual mask was intact and my emotions didn't show across my face. I was awesome at the mask, I'd been using it for so goddamn long but somehow I was beginning to feel it slip. My smile was becoming too false. My smirk too bitter. I was starting to lose my façade and fuck, it was not the time to show any weakness when Quatre's life was at stake.

"Why we here?" I asked, my voice, impressively casual.

"In two days' there's gonna be a press conference here."

I blinked. Here? Fucking here? It was a beautiful location, a nice pretty park with big expensive newly built buildings around it but it was possibly the worse location security wise that I'd ever seen. Way to go, Quat. Might as well just put a fucking red dot on your forehead and let the snipers shoot. The buildings had multiple windows and you only needed to be a half decent shot to be able to get someone from this location. From a quick scan of the area, I could pinpoint where I would put snipers to kill someone at this spot. Maybe it was the whole defiance thing, maybe the Preventers were saying they had the whole thing covered but the idea of a press conference in a location that was not easily defensible was suicide to me.

"In front of this?"

"Yeah, something about acknowledging the shitty past of the colony before working together to build a bright future bullshit…"

"Huh," I said, articulately. "Why the explosives, D? You just need a few snipers."

He smirked in my direction and came real close to me, his face was right in my face, close enough to feel his breath of my cheek. I stood my ground and didn't flinch. His lips were at my ear.

"Distraction. Everyone loves fireworks," he whispered before returning to his position leaning against the monument.

It made sense, I guess. Set off some explosions nearby and watch the Preventers scramble to deal with it while snipers or even just guns on the ground could fire at will. I'm sure when the explosions went off, security would reign down on Quatre and pull him down but not before some of Dallas' crew got chance to fire a few rounds off. It was a nice plan. And yeah, I sure as hell liked explosions and people would just watch things go kaboom while Dallas' crew started shooting. It would be chaos. Shame Dallas was never gonna get to see it happen as this would end before he got chance to pull this stunt. Or so I hoped. The one thing about being undercover was I had no idea when the Preventers were going to come down on the operation and start the arresting people. I was in the dark. Hopefully we were stood in the park talking about a scenario that would never happen. Heero would be listening in at Wired and patching this through to 'Fei and the Preventers would be all over this shit – a quick strike, cutting the head off the gang threat and I'd be sat in a debrief handing in my resignation. A part of me thought that this was nice and easy but the law of this kinda work said this was far  _too_ easy. Dallas sure as hell didn't trust me and he was sharing just a little bit too much.

"The explosives are gonna go there," he said.

Dallas' eyes gestured towards one of the buildings – the large conference centre that seemed to have been built recently. It was a building made of steel and glass. A good choice to put explosives as the amount of glass could create a lotta damage. The plan seemed all really considered. Yeah, the kids seemed like amateurs but Dallas was a smart guy with a tactical brain who was planning to use the loyalty of those kids to commit an act of terrorism and attempt a good old fashioned assassination. I felt like I had a weird admiration and hatred for the guy in front of me. But what would I have become if I'd stayed here? Probably dead, I guess.

I shrugged. "How we gonna get 'em in there? They must've got security up to their asses in a building like that."

"That's not shit for you to worry about, Dom, you just gotta work out how to make it blow up, if that ain't a problem for ya."

"No problem, Dallas, none at all."

I realised Dallas' eyes were looking behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see only those indistinguishable people wearing suits.

"You're gonna go back to the hospital and work on shit."

"And you?"

"I got important business to attend to, blue eyes."

"What kinda  _business?"_

He gave me a smirk that matched my own and pushed himself off the monument he'd been leaning against, he put his hand on my shoulder and I jolted from the contact.

"The sort ya don't need to know about."

Dallas gestured towards my friendly twin two and then walked away, I kinda wondered if twin two would man handle me but being that we were in a nice place, he made a move for my arm and I brushed it off.

"Fine, man, I'll follow you."

As I walked back to the Jeep, I had the urge to talk into my wrist like a crazy person and tell Heero that I didn't think this was as simple as Dallas said. I saw him cross the park, walking through the grass towards a group of smoking businessmen and I thought maybe it was like the sex traffic ring. That some important people were involved in this shit but then I saw a guy. He was trying that goddamn inconspicuous thing I'd seen Trowa do – standing against a wall, arms folded across his chest and a foot flat on the wall, slouching against the outside of an office building. He wore a suit, a long trench coat in black and that was who Dallas was meeting.

A guy. I had no name and no knowledge of who the hell he was but he looked up at me with an expression on his face that said he knew who I was. I wasn't certain, I didn't know, but something in my gut just said that whoever he was, he was a threat and there was more about this little plan than met the eye.

Damn it, I hate being undercover.

 


	12. It's Getting Hard to Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Deep Down - Saosin

**Chapter Twelve**

**It's Getting Hard to Breathe**

The ceiling of the room that had become my temporary home had cracks that ran all the way along it. I wondered how well the hospital was built as I looked up and frowned, lying back on the gurney and getting out my flick knife to give me something to do. It was night and my guard, the ever chatty Lance was sat outside my room, his back against the door.

The twins had escorted me back to the hospital in the Jeep neither of them saying anything. I'd tried to get them to speak to me but it was like talking to a brick wall. Or Trowa. And they said nothing. I kinda wondered if Dallas had told them not to talk to me and they took the order  _very_ literally. They didn't seem the sharpest pencils in the box, if you know what I mean, and I think Dallas kept them around for a purely aesthetic reason – they looked tough. They must've decided without Dallas in the hospital, that they didn't know what to do with me and they locked me in what had become my room and stationed Lance outside it. I'd been here for like four hours and I was fucking bored. But I was waiting. I was antsy, I was bored but I was waiting.

I put one hand behind my head and flicked my knife in and out with the other hand and listened. The gurney was not comfortable as it was a shitty one on wheels - probably for stiffs rather than a bed and the sheets were scratchy and musty smelling. Hell, I didn't expect five star luxury and all but, come on, there were nicer rooms. I knew that as I'd scoped the place out on my first night. A part of me wondered if Dallas knew or whether he just thought I wasn't that much of a risk taker but the first night I just waited like I did now. Flicked the knife out. Stared at the ceiling until Lance took a break.

I scoped the place and gave Heero a running commentary as I did. I didn't know how well the communication chip worked but I was going with the fact that it worked awesome. It kinda amused me that he was sat on a laptop listening to the ramblings of Duo Maxwell as I'd tried to make it entertaining. Put a few jokes in. Hell, I was sure I could feel him scowling despite the distance between us. Maybe we had a weird psychic connection. Or maybe I just had a vivid imagination and I was so goddamn used to that scowl. Huh, whatever.

I searched the top floors on the first night. They were in better shape than the downstairs areas of the hospital being that the gang had left them alone but still all the signs of medication and medical equipment had been stripped. I wondered if the L2 government had stripped the hospital or the inhabitants of the District had done it the moment the doors closed on the place. It made me kinda sad to see the hand sanitizer things taken from the wall, you know, those gels with alcohol in. They'd all been ripped off the walls and the laminated posters saying to think about germs were still there.

People on L2 got desperate for highs. They'd take whatever the hell they could get. I wandered the halls of the hospital, walking passed a children's ward on the seventh floor. I stopped in the doorway of the ward. The walls were painted yellow, a bright sunny colour rather than that kinda awful sickly type and on those walls were paintings of bears and rabbits and other cute characters. The beds all looked small. A lump had developed in my throat and I shook my head, walking away.

There was nothing on the seventh floor that was useful to me so I left quickly forgetting how small those beds looked. Tonight I wanted to take a looksie at the basement, see if Dallas stored anything exciting down there. I could hear Lance coughing outside and looked back at the ceiling. He'd go soon but damnit, I wanted to go now. Finally, after another half an hour, Lance's heavy footsteps were audible. Shit yeah. I carefully moved to the door, being as quiet as I possibly could and listened to him walk down the corridor. He halted for a second and then his steps started to get quiet.

I assumed he went for a piss and it gave me, like, five minutes but that was all I ever needed. I thought I'd give up keeping lock picks in my hair when I became an adult – when I became a Preventer and didn't need to steal shit to live anymore but I think it's an ingrained habit. Lock picks? Check. Flick knife? Check. Handgun? Check. And my lock picking skills became useful far, far, too often to give up keeping them in there. Heero once made a comment that could almost be called a joke –  _almost ,_ you know, about me keeping a machete in my braid if I could hide it. I'd laughed at him as it was true. I  _so_ would.

The lock took all of two seconds and I slipped outside and walked quickly but quietly down the corridor. An important stealth lesson – don't run. You make more noise. Just walk quickly and try not to make too much noise. I arrived at the doors that led to the stairwell, the elevators next to them completely useless due to the lack of power and went through the door. I thought for a second about jumping over the railings as the landing wasn't too far but realised I was being an idiot and instead walked down the stairs. I wasn't being reckless or stupid.

I noticed the sign on the wall once I arrived at the basement level and saw a word that chilled me. MORGUE in large capital letters with an arrow pointing. Ah, that was in the basement. I shrugged off the sudden cold feeling and pushed through the metallic doors to a corridor made of steel and darkness. I thought about being an ass. There was pretty much no light down here. The floors that the gang used were lit by a generator and a series of large lamps – the basement, not so much. I felt in my pockets and remembered I usually had a matchbook somewhere on me for my occasional smoking habit. I'd lost my Deathscythe lighter years ago and as the war was slowly getting forgotten, never got one to replace it. Probably stopped making them.

In my back pocket, I had a matchbook and I lit one of them. It made the corridor all reflective and I was able to see in front of my eyes which was helpful. I decided to take it slow being that the metallic flooring and walls seemed to make every movement echo and my biker boots seemed to make too much noise.

"Not so smart, Duo, not so smart," I was saying to myself and then realised I was talking to myself when I should be talking to the chip in my wrist. Heero must think I'm fucking whacked.

"Okay, Heero, I'm in the basement doing some recon," I said into my wrist. Talking to my wrist seemed one of the more crazy things I'd done in my life. I must look crazy doing it. "I'm guessing that it's just a morgue down here but ya never know, the whole plan could be revealed."

I was trying to be dramatic as I held the match as I went through another pair of double doors. I'd passed an office which said Medical Examiner and a room opposite that said Office. Not being very descriptive or exciting looking, I didn't bother with either room as I had a morbid curiosity thing about the morgue. I was thinking zombie movie – a room of corpses left and decaying and ready to come back to life when I opened the door. Okay, I am fully aware that it was purely my imagination but I was ever so slightly curious if they'd left the corpses in the morgue draws. It seemed the sort of shitty thing that could've happened when the hospital got shut down – the District was a place where the orphaned, lost and lonely went and I bet a lot of bodies never got claimed. I never knew what happened to Solo's body or any of the other kids I'd known after they died. They had no grave, no marker and no place to mourn them. Least the church had the grounds it had stood on. Idly, I wondered if there was anything there now. Whether Quatre had done the tiny amount of research and guess work that it would take to figure out where the Maxwell part of my name came from. He sure as hell was smart enough and curious enough to find out.

The flicker of flame was getting hot in my fingers and I dropped the first one to the ground and lit another as I got to a final set of doors. They were heavy metal doors with small windows at the top that I couldn't see anything through. There was a sign on this door.

RESTRICTED ACCESS. MEDICAL EXAMINER AND TECHNICIANS ONLY.

NO UNAUTHORISED ACCESS.

I pushed the door. Of course, fucking locked. My eyes were getting accustomed to the lack of proper light but I was now gonna have to juggle my lock picking with seeing. Then I thought the hell with it and dropped the match to the ground and just felt and guessed where the lock was. This is proof of how good I am – lock picking in pitch black. I listened carefully for the soft click and then pushed.

"I am awesome."

Hell, Heero could wonder why I was awesome. I wasn't going to explain. Plus, he should just kinda think I was anyway.

I lit another match and entered the morgue to see the grey slabs that bodies went on, the draining equipment, the pumps, the hoses, the equipment stored on walls and then the draws. There must have been fifty plus draws. They took up an entire wall, the shining surfaces reflecting the light of my match. My fingers were getting hotter again so I dropped it and lit another one as I approached the draws. It was one of those moments where I really wasn't sure what I was expecting as I pulled one out at random. Did I expect a dead body? Logically, hell no. But there's always that part of me with the whole morbid death obsession thing that kinda expected it.

What I saw I didn't expect.

A tray of vials. Small vials. Hundreds. I blinked and picked one up. The vial itself looked innocuous in the dim light – it was full of clear liquid that looked as harmless as water. However, the label had a code and a company name. It said Core Technologies L2-187VSMRK2. I figured I didn't need to be a genius to work out the code – these were no vaccinations and the name Core Technologies was as fake as my own Domino identity. Or so I figured. It just sounded so  _lame._ This job was all about instincts and, yeah, sometimes my instincts were wrong and I was unbelievably reckless but my instincts told me all I needed to know. Plus the code was easy to decipher - L2 187 Virus Strain Mark 2. So this was the virus. Or a version of it. So my little trip to Monument Park suddenly made sense – this was about more than explosives, more than the L2 Project, more than killing Quat – I sure as hell didn't know what I'd got into. Last job before retirement and it had to be this complicated. I pocketed one and slid the draw back in carefully as I suddenly heard footsteps. Busted.

I turned to see torch light approaching the door and thought about ducking and hiding but damn it, the light from my itty bitty matches would have been seen through the glass of the double doors and I was fucked. I thought whether it would be one of the twins. Or both and made a plan of how to attack, reaching for my flick knife and dropping the match.

The door opened and the torch light was on me.

"What are you doing here? You're restricted to your room."

It was Zee, a gun in one hand and a torch in the other. The gun she was still holding wrong. I wondered if she'd ever shot anyone being that she didn't know how to hold the weapon at all but I felt a little relieved it was her. I returned my knife to my back pocket and was gonna play the innocent card.

"I'm just looking around," I said casually, going for a charming smile on my face.

Her eyes looked at my suspiciously, her gaze looking towards the metallic morgue draws. "No one's allowed down here."

"I can see why. It's kinda creepy – ya think there's still bodies?"

That made her shudder and confirmed a few things. She had no idea about the vials and she was easily creeped out. I thought about the amount of bodies I'd seen, I'd seen too much death – bleeding, puking, rotting, dying. Bodies really didn't bother me.

"No one's allowed here," she repeated.

"Fine, I'll go back up – no harm, ya know."

She shakily held her gun and I walked slowly towards her then lunged. She didn't expect the movement, I easily got the gun off her and disarmed it, taking out the clip and then handed it back to her.

"You need to learn how to hold a gun, darlin'. Don't use real bullets 'til ya know how to shoot it."

It was as though she now realised the vulnerable situation she was in. Zee didn't even protest "darlin'" and instead tried to look unfazed.

"And you could teach me?"

"Yeah, it don't make sense to me why Dallas doesn't teach you."

"I'm not here to fight."

"Sweetheart, when the shit hits the fan, everybody's gotta fight – learn how to hold the thing before you end up shooting the wrong person."

She glanced at me and trained the torch on my face. "I don't get you."

"Darlin… nobody does."

I looked back as I followed her, the vial feeling heavy in my pocket despite its small size. I had no time to check but I'd picked a random draw and if each one contained a few hundred vials then in the fifty or so draws… there was a hell of a lot of vials. Math ain't my strong point – sue me, piloting means you have a system that tells you what to do and does most of the calculations. The rest is all feel and institution. Undercover work does not generally require math. I am not stupid, I'm just not formally educated but I didn't need math to know that there was a ton.

I felt the vial in my pocket as I walked, the small size making it seem kinda harmless but I knew the consequences of it. And I wondered now if I was immune and why the hell I'd been immune first time. I'd thought about Solo's death at the goddamn monument but the reality of the vials brought an image I really didn't want in my head – Heero coughing up his own blood. It made me shiver and I hoped that Zee didn't see. Thinking about Heero made me realise I needed him.

There were two reasons. I needed to get the vial to him so he could get it tested, hand it over to the Preventers and work out the exact composition for a vaccination. We needed to know if it had to be injected, if it was airborne – we needed to set up a motherfucking quarantine.

And goddamnit, pathetic as it sounded I needed him, a steady presence, a hand, a touch. I was feeling pretty low – that little vial seemed to break down the last of my righteous anger and made me feel… hollow. Fuck it, the whole operation felt like it was tearing my insides to shreds. Zee walked me back to my designated room – obviously not wanting me to do anymore night wandering. Didn't think if I got caught again, I could use a sleepwalking excuse – think this was my one and only time of finding out more intel and I was pretty sure this was enough to get the Preventers down on the gang. Biological terrorism beats bombs, guns and assassination attempts.

Lance seemed pretty surprised to see me not in the room and looked a little apprehensive at the sight of Zee. Shit was gonna get back to Dallas and he looked kinda scared. Still wondered how harsh Dallas dealt with people.

"Make sure he doesn't move from his room, asshole," Zee said and walked off dramatically.

He looked at me. "How the hell did you get out?"

I grinned at him and slipped through the door. "I'm sneaky."

I kinda wanted to laugh at the poor guy as he just shook his head, closed the door and I heard the sound of the bolt being locked. I got the vial from my back pocket and looked at it closely, sitting down on the gurney and sat cross legged on it with my head in my hands.

"'Ro," I said quietly. "I think this shit might be biological. I've got a vial of what looks like a virus and I need to get this to you. Meet me…" I stopped, not knowing where to say to meet him. Wired was out if he was even still there. "Meet me in the alleyway beside Black Velvet – where ya tried not to punch my lights out. I'll get there in an hour. I'll wait fifteen minutes. If you can't make it… hell, I know you can no matter who the hells tailing your ass, I'll come back here and you just get the info to Wufei."

I glanced around the room to figure out my escape route. The door was no longer an option as I listened to hear someone else had been stationed outside my door as well as Lance. Sounded like one of the twins – real heavy footsteps. The window was not an option as it was barred and too damn small for my skinny ass anyway. It left one option. An option I hated. I looked up the ceiling – time to go crawling through the air conditioning system vents. Awesome.

I listened for a second and then clicked the breaks off the gurney, dragging it under the vent and put them back on. I hopped up, grabbed my knife and started to twist the bolts out without ripping my fingers to shreds. Even though I was stood on top of the gurney, it was a bit of a stretch and I wished I'd grown taller. My life would be so much easier if I had.

The metal grating covering the vent started to become loose and I pulled with enough force to free it – I may not have Heero sized super strength but I worked out when I wasn't on undercover – I was not weak. I listened, cocked my head and heard a conversation on the other side of the door. It seemed Dallas was back and Lance was feeling slightly anxious about the fact he'd let me slip past. A part of me wanted to stick around and listen. The other part knew I had to get outta the hospital so I pulled myself up and found myself in a dirty, dusty and grimy air ventilation system. I'm starting to think I get all the shittiest jobs…

The crawl space was not big – my body was just about small enough to navigate it but it meant with every movement my entire clothing, hair and skin was getting plastered in grimy shit from the sides. Fuck, my braid was gonna be beyond gross but the other option was sitting on my ass until the Preventers showed. I'm not good at the patience thing.

I calculated I just needed to get to another corridor that wasn't guarded so I shimmied, crawled and pulled my way trying not to cough as dust and dirt got stuck in my nose. I stopped for a second and listened, then wiped my hands over my face to move bits of hair from my eyes and I was actually thinking for the first time ever that my hair sometimes was a massive pain in the ass. Like right now. But like I hell was I gonna cut it again. I continued crawling 'til I got to another vent and laid my head down to listen to any sounds underneath. When I heard nothing, I jimmied the vent and watched it drop to the ground with a crash that sounded far too loud. Damn it.

For a few minutes I tried not to breathe but when no response came, I lowered myself down to the room. I was in an operating theatre and it had no windows and only a little light streaming through from the corridors. I took a few seconds to work out where the hell I was and then worked out the direction to the stairs. See, the main problem I had was that the bottom floor windows of the hospital were barred – steel that I couldn't bend. I'm not fucking Heero Yuy. The bottom floor seemed to be about keeping people out which I could get. L2 gangs probably tried to steal medication all the time when the hospital was open and working. Barring the windows would work to stop that. So the bottom floor was all out for my escape.

The other floors? No bars. So I was gonna pull a Heero Yuy stunt.

Babe, you're so not the only one who can go jumping outta hospital windows without using a parachute.

 


	13. A History of Conflict and Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Search Party - Enter Shikari

**Chapter Thirteen**

**A History of Conflict and Violence**

The jump out of the hospital window was not going to be as spectacular as Heero's amazing swan dive. Mainly because I was only on the second floor as I am not suicidal and also because I was actually going to attempt to get down without injuring myself. I didn't have the guts to pop my own joints back into place for shits and giggles unlike some people. Plus I'm pretty sure my bony, skinny ass would just break as I wasn't genetically enhanced. A few shots to boost immunity was about all I got from G.

The bottom floor windows were barred to keep people from getting into the hospital but the upper floors had the intention of stopping people getting  _out_. The glass was all reinforced, the windows themselves only able to open the smallest amount so no one thought of jumping out of them. It's a sad state of affairs when a hospital is scared that people are gonna jump and try and kill themselves but I guess that's the fun of the District.

I picked a ward at the back of the building as the sniper was trained on the front and then found a window that overlooked the park. My plan was – smash glass, jump out, land elegantly, stand up, get to park without being spotted, walk through the District without anyone giving a shit. Seemed like a good plan. Though from life experience, I figured that plans never work out. Remember, this is from the guy who planned on quitting the Preventers, who planned on begging Howard for a job… who didn't plan to be on L2 ever again.

The glass was reinforced so it took more effort than I wanted to knock it out. I wrapped my fist in some handy sheets and punched through it, letting the shards fall to the ground below and making a sound that was too goddamn loud for my liking. Now that the glass was out, I looked down to see the landing. It was higher than I really wanted – but damnit, I didn't really want to be jumping outta buildings in the first place so nobody gets what they want in life. I thought about Heero's words outside Wired "don't die" and my promises of no recklessness. This was possibly the most reckless thing I'd done in a while but was nowhere near some of my usual shit. Hell, in my period of being undercover and in various jobs I'd done a variety of drugs to fit in, Russian roulette to prove I was a badass and generally pissed off many, many guys who were much bigger than me to provoke them. This was cake. There were slight risks because if I landed awkwardly, I could twist something or break something and that basically put me out of commission but I wasn't gonna let that happen. If I got injured I would just be extracted and I really wanted to stick around. This was my job and I wanted to know what the hell Dallas and his crew were up to.

I wrapped my other hand in more bits of torn sheets, to protect my hands from glass shards, I've totally got the health and safety shit down and then climbed outta the window. I held onto the edges of the window frame and lowered my body, dangling above the ground before letting go and landing without any incident. I lapsed into old mission thinking. Status? Legs fine. Arms a few nicks from the glass. Hands functioning but a few cuts from glass were visible as I removed the bits of sheets – they were usable so passed the status check. Body was operational. Mission to commence.

The hospital provided enough shadow for me to stick to as I made way round to the park. I glanced back to the roof and saw no sign of the sniper and I made my run to the dead park and away from potential danger. If I'd been caught, I had no idea how I was gonna explain it – I suppose I would've just blown my cover and knocked someone out which was a risk I really didn't need to take so was relieved when I was walking through the back alleys of the District to get to Heero.

I stuck to the back alleys knowing the amazing shittiness of my current appearance. I didn't need a mirror to know the grime and dust and dirt and now blood that was staining my body. The only thing I can say is, there is a reason I always wear black, shows less stains and my occupation always made me end up covered in dirt. Even in the District, I would look bad so I stuck as much to the shadows and alleys, trying to hide myself as best as I could. The convoluted way I tried to get to Black Velvet meant I approached it from behind the buildings entrance and I walked down the alley expecting Heero to be there.

When he wasn't, I paused and leaned against the wall and thought, shit. Not having a watch, my sense of time was a little whacked and I only wanted to risk an hour outta the hospital. Plus I was going to have to find a way back in that didn't mean going through the front doors and as the windows were barred and all other doors secured from the ground floor, I wasn't sure how I was going to do it. Damn it, Heero. You're the one who's supposed to be superhuman here and all you had to do was leave an apartment with a few dudes tailing you.

Then I heard the quiet footsteps and I grabbed for my knife. It seemed trust wasn't our strong point as he had a gun out and pointing at me. I pushed myself off the wall and turned towards him.

"Thanks for finally turning up, Heero."

"I was watching from the roof in case you were being followed."

"Was I?"

I hadn't felt like I was tailed. Usually, you get a feeling and then you know you have someone to shake off. I'd had none of that.

"No."

"So you're just being Mr Super Paranoid? What about your buddies? Thought Dallas has three guys on you at all times?"

"It's not a problem," he said cryptically.

The look in his eyes was cold and slightly creepy. I decided not to press the matter further as he looked me up and down seeing my filthy clothes and amazingly gross hair.

"You're bleeding."

"It's nothing."

He stepped forward and pulled up my hand and looked at my palm where blood was flowing at a fairly rapid pace. I hadn't noticed it as I'd slunk around the alleys in the darkness of the District. Adrenalin always helped in battle and missions. You didn't notice the pain until much later and you can deal with it. I always found being captured harder – being beaten, you notice every moment of pain as your disadvantaged, weak, unable to fight back. His fingers were covered in my blood and I looked at them before meeting his eyes.

"How?"

"I pulled one of your stunts. Jumping out of hospital windows is less fun than you made it look."

"I'm extracting you."

The words didn't sink in straight away. Call it his unbelievably logical and blunt way of bossing me around or call it the slow coming down from my own amazing escape act but I was not thinking at full capacity. Factor in lack of decent food, lack of sleep and generally, finding out about a massive amount of virus, reliving the fun time memories of death and grief and yeah, my brain didn't take in the word "extracting" straight away. Once my brain caught up, I think I saw him tense as I'm sure he knew I was about to explode at him. I was not ready to be extracted and he sure as hell couldn't make the call. He was not my handler. He was… god, I don't know what we are to each other. Fuck buddies still? Something more? Whatever the current situation between us gave him no right and I was ready to tell him that.

His body tensed before I could say anything. I was as predictable as he was and instead of saying what I goddamn wanted to say, he pushed me against the wall of the alleyway with more force than he needed to and his mouth was covering mine. I wanted to push him away and say something sarcastic about him knowing the one way to shut me up – having something in my mouth – but somehow thought processes and resistance were just not working for me so I let him slide his tongue in and pin me against the wall.

He released my lips and then glanced to my right. People were walking past the alley. It was all for a little bit of cover. Two people making out in alley is completely acceptable and expected in the District. But damn, he could just miss me and want to kiss me.

"You're not extracting me. I gotta finish this," I said quietly, my forehead leaning against his.

"We should move," he said.

Awesome. Back to being ignored by Heero Yuy. Felt like we'd just gone back in a time machine and he was pretending I didn't exist. Repeating old patterns.

"We can't go anywhere near Wired."

"I have somewhere else."

"Well, I guessed since it was compromised and all…"

"Follow me."

I wasn't going to protest as he took me round the back of the building row to another scummy apartment block that basically overlooked the back entrance to Black Velvet. I smirked as I realised we were heading into that particular building. I guessed the strippers used the employee entrance so if you lived in that particular block you could observe their arrivals and departures. I'm sure there were people who lived in this building who enjoyed the show but could imagine Heero didn't notice in his usual mission orientated way. This apartment was worse than Wired – hell, it wasn't an apartment, it was a room with a bed and then a sink and toilet plunked in the corner. It was still much better than some of the places I'd stayed. There had been some really fun safe houses during the war and I'd stayed in some amazingly shitty rat infested places in undercover ops. My perspective on niceness of places was very skewed. I turned to see Heero locking the door and putting a chair behind it for extra security.

I stood at one side of the room and he stood near the door. We were doing our best stand-off poses. We should just play this game like a western and see who had the quickest draw.

"You can't go back. Dallas is suspicious. You have the vial and that will be enough evidence for the Preventers."

I took a deep breath in order not to just start shouting at him. I could fly at him – say everything I wanted to but I wasn't going to repeat history. We didn't need to fight and do what we'd always done.

"Yeah, it's enough evidence for Dallas and the kids but, come on, look at the vial. There's something else going on here. That's what I've gotta get to. That's why I've gotta go back."

I passed him the vial from my pocket which he looked at closely.

"Core Technologies. Doesn't sound real, does it?" I said as his intense blue eyes stared at it.

Heero looked up at me. "It could be a dummy corporation."

"Yeah, plus I saw a dude that Dallas met who was kinda suspicious. I just got a feeling that there's more to this than just a simple act of terrorism. If they wanted to just kill Quatre then that would be it – but why have the virus unless they wanna use it?"

"We'll find out."

"Like we always do, huh? Always us saving the day."

He frowned at me and I wandered to the window. The window was unbelievably grimy and difficult to see through but on looking out my earlier suspicions were confirmed. The employee entrance to Black Velvet was visible.

"Wanted to move near to Niko and the strippers?" I asked as he put down the vial carefully on the bedside table – the only available surface apart from the bed. "Damn, didn't know I could be replaced so quickly."

"No one replaced you."

Blame my brain not working at full capacity but I just stared. I watched as he produced his duffle and started looking for his portable med kit and seemed to be concentrating on ignoring me again. He'd realised what he'd said and so did I.

"You mean you haven't been with anyone else since me?"

"No."

Now that floored me. No one else in three years? Hell, I was gonna give him an award for celibacy and commitment here but I felt more than a little weird. I rubbed my tattooed arm, smearing blood over the ink – blood creating a pattern over the Celtic cross. It hurt somewhere inside me. I'd slept with other guys. I didn't have a big "number" but it was still not just him. Maybe I should've done the whole celibacy shit.

"Not even a quick fuck?"

"I've said no once already," he said, his eyes returning back to my face. His patience was wearing thin with me but my mind had gone from mission to what the hell? "Come over so I can look at your hand."

Instead, I held my ground and stood by the window. "So I'm like your… one and only?"

"Come over here so I can treat your wounds."

"Huh, you're deflecting and as king of deflecting, I know it means you're trying to distract, confuse and make me forget. I'm so not gonna do that, 'Ro."

"Give me your hand."

Feeling particularly childish in this whole situation, I walked over to the bed and sat where he motioned but then held it to my chest instead of letting him look at it. I wanted to have this conversation.

"Hand," he said again.

I offered it to him and he looked to see under the light that there were a few pieces of glass embedded in my skin. He sighed at me and then grabbed his portable med kid to remove said pieces of glass. I watched as he used tweezers to remove it and then sterilized it before bandaging it up a little. I watched skilled fingers work and thought about how to say what I wanted to say.

"You like… waited for me?"

"I thought you were dead."

"No, you didn't. You said that but you stayed in touch with Trowa as they were trying to find me. You didn't think I was dead. You waited."

Blue eyes blazed at me looking up from my wounded hand. "What if I did?"

"Then it's like either really romantic or really stupid. We weren't that great together first time, remember? I wasn't worth waiting for."

He dropped my hand and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me close enough to kiss forcefully, my eyes fluttered and I reached out with my injured and still bloody hand pulling him closer by his shirt. I think I was seeing stars or at least I was ready to crawl into his lap and start to grind our bodies together. It just felt like something I needed. I wanted blissful ignorance, sweat, tongues, teeth, hands… he could have me anyway he wanted me. Bed, wall, floor but hell, there was no time and we both knew that.

Our lips parted and he looked at me so goddamn intensely. "Stay. Don't go back."

"I can't, 'Ro, gotta finish this."

"There's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

There was a glint I recognised in his eye and I smirked back at him, running a hand down his chest and feeling his breathing speed up again. "I'm sure you could do things that would make me forget but… I gotta see this through."

He nodded and returned his gaze to my wounds. I tried to return my body and breathing to normal and tried to think of seriously unsexy thoughts.

Heero knew I was a stubborn son of a bitch and there was no way I'd back down. He also knew my devotion to the mission – that was something Heero Yuy got and he knew I was as bad as he was – determined, stupid, single minded. And it all felt too personal. It was the virus that had killed Solo and tons of other kids, Dallas was an asshole who was like a freak show mirror version of me and kids were just kids whose lives have been fucked over. I was not gonna walk away until there was some sort of conclusion. As much as I wanted him.

He gently cleaned the rest of my wounds, sterilising them I think purely for some punishment and let me attempt to wash myself over the sink to get rid of at least some of the shit. My hair was just gonna stay a nightmare but he had my duffle bag so I could change my t shirt as the one I had been wearing was a complete loss – I didn't even want to wash it. My jeans were pretty trashed but I just dusted them off and put them back on though I was super grateful for clean boxers. We looked at each other as I stood, dressed again and it seemed neither of us knew what to say to each other. With Heero that was kinda typical but with me… my heart was in my throat and I didn't know what I wanted to do.

"'Ro… after all this, I'm through with the Preventers so you know… if you want to work shit out…"

I didn't have any articulate words. I was shrugging. I was doing the whole scratching the back of my head thing. I was running my fingers over my tattoos. I was doing my whole Duo-is-awkward-and-doesn't-have-words routine. I was kinda hoping it was endearing. That my lack of emotional competence and massive intimacy issues were not freaking him out.

Heero just looked at me. Completely blank. I was thinking he'd short-circuited. That whatever programming that the Docs had done to him had just gone well and truly wrong.

"Heero? You dead in there?"

"No."

"No? No what?"

"No I'm not dead."

"Okay…so what's your response to what I just said? You know, that's as near as you're gonna get to me being all sappy and shit. "

"Yeah."

"Yeah to…?"

He stood up and approached me, I took a step back for some reason – fight or flight shit. I was now trying to be mature and give myself up to someone – to trust, to,  _whisper it,_  try and love someone again and there was the ingrained feeling to just run away before I got hurt.

"Just promise me."

His hand touched my face and I glanced at his fingers rather than look at his face.

"No more running, hiding or pushing me away."

"Promise though it kinda makes my motto redundant. I'll just go with never tells lies from now on but being that I'm still undercover…maybe just no motto anymore."

He gave me a small smile that was more genuine than any of my Cheshire cat grins. It was only the slightest thing but he was… so, Jesus, I hate being cheesy but I'm gonna go for beautiful. I leaned in to kiss him all gentle like and then backed off before it got hot and heavy. I needed to back at the hospital and doing my actual job. I'd got the vial to Heero – he could do his side of the job now and get the shit to 'Fei and I'd just try to find out more before the Preventer team came in and arrested the gangs asses. Once I was extracted, then we could start again. Be different. Better. Give us a real shot. See if I could actually handle a mature relationship. See if he could deal with the whole bucket of crazy that was my head. See that we could stop repeating a cycle of fucking and not much else.

"See you on the other side."

"Be careful."

"I'll try, Heero, but you know, it ain't always possible."

 


	14. Night of the Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Night of the Hunter - 30 Seconds to Mars

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Night of the Hunter**

There are times when I realise that I am a stubborn son of a bitch and that I should listen to other people. That I look back and reflect and think that I should've listened to Heero. That I should not think I knew everything and that I should be less off an asshole. Basically, stop thinking I can take on the world singlehandedly and actually admit defeat and ask for help when I needed it. This was one of those times.

The back of my head hit the floor with enough force to knock out a normal guy. I wasn't normal and plus everyone commented on my thick skull. I could feel the blood beginning to pour as the kick hit my ribs. Damn, take it Maxwell. Let them do what they want… no fighting back. No Shinigami. This beating could be because I ran out on the hospital not because they knew who I was. I needed to take it to retain cover. Needed to take it.

I'd been given brief introduction to torture training from G. It was just along the lines of don't get caught in the first place and if you are gonna be caught, at least have the sense to kill yourself before you're in enemy hands. My true torture training had been Barge. Learnt a hell of a lot in that pleasant OZ stay. It sometimes still made appearances in my nightmares – sadistic pricks. I can list the most important things I learnt from Ozzie scum. Don't rile the people kicking you. I know, completely obvious so I kept my smart mouth shut and didn't say anything. The twins and the hard asses I'd seen around the place did the usual insults. Pretty boy. Queer. Faggot. Shit. Fucker. Motherfucker. It's all the same stuff. Someone pulled back on my hair and I had the temptation to fight back – I still had my knife so could probably cut them up bad. I could kill a couple of them in seconds but I couldn't. I'm not Duo. I'm Domino.

Another thing. Keep your body as relaxed and loose as possible. You tense – it hurts. Just remain helpless and let them do it. So I just lay on the cold floor and took it. Thought about Heero. Thought about Wufei. They both knew techniques to ignore the pain. Wufei had once tried to teach me how to meditate at a Preventer safe house in Italy after an undercover job. Gently encouraged. Tried to get me to be calm and stop thinking. Tried to make me focus on my breathing and stop my racing mind. It was weird to think about 'Fei at this point – those black eyes, that calmness that he could radiate at times when he wasn't ranting…I wish I had some of his restraint. Wish I could drift into a world of peace. I wanted to not think of the pain, I wanted to drift to a place where they weren't hurting me and I wasn't fucked but it didn't work. I was trying but a heavy booted foot made contact in my stomach and I coughed in response. They were not going to get the satisfaction of a scream. Of a groan of pain. They were not gonna get anything from me.

I should probably rewind to how I ended up getting the shit kicked out of me from leaving Heero. Let's just say my absence had been noticed and not just noticed, the whole gang were actually guarding the hospital. I tried to sneak back in but got discovered. Got pistol whipped. Got dragged here. Up to speed, huh?

There was a break in the kicks and I was moved up to my knees, the man handling was something I was just gonna go with as my hands were being tied pretty ineffectively. I wanted to goad them. Let them know that those knots wouldn't stop me but I let them do it. Rule one and all. Do not piss off the people beating the shit outta you. Plus, it showed they thought the beating had subdued me. Yeah, it had hurt but I could take beatings. Pain was a part of who I was. Physical pain was easy. I wanted to give them a true Shinigami smile. They would all pay. Everybody who crossed me did.

I looked up through my bangs and spat onto the floor in front of me and it was bloody. I wasn't sure where it had come from but I could guess that my lips were split and there was the taste of blood in my mouth. The last time that coppery taste had been there was when me and Heero…

Damn it, not a good thought. Dallas was stood his arms folded across his chest, leaning against what had been a nurse's station with Zee to his side. She wasn't looking at me but was holding her gun as awkwardly as she usually did. She didn't enjoy the violence. The chick was a goddamn puzzle.

We were in a waiting room on the second floor, the lines of chairs to the side and the twins behind me, one grabbed my hair forcing me to look further up and more directly at Dallas. He was smirking at the display of violence with a look that I recognised. The look of a killer. My own reflection. I'd smiled as my enemies died from a Gundam cockpit. I had a cocky smirk on my face as I shot people, as I sunk knives into people but I was not psychotic. Violence was linked with who I was but it was all the great show. I laughed, I smiled and smirked as I killed but I didn't do stuff for my amusement. It was the mask. It was the only way I can continue killing people. I never got real pleasure from it. Just had to keep the Shinigami side separate from who I was. Just had to become the "other" me to kill. Though the sides had started to blur over the years.

Lance was stood to the side of me and I was kinda disappointed that he'd been involved in the beating. He'd been a fun guy but hey, it was probably one of those things. You fucked up. You help beat the prisoner.

"You were told you weren't allowed to leave the hospital," Dallas said.

"Yeah, well, I've never been good at taking orders, you know."

Dallas just smiled and walked towards me, his Berretta in his hand, his stride totally casual. If he put his hands behind his head like I did, it would be like watching myself. It was freaking me out… how…how similar we were. It just made me shudder.

The gun was in my face and he ran it over my cheek. I tensed but knew the safety was on and I was pretty sure he wouldn't go through the process of beating me just to kill me. It was then he turned just a little and he cocked the weapon, pulling back the hammer which sounded loud from where I was and the shot fired. I turned my head to the side as the bullet made impact and the spray of blood, bone and brain flew across my right side. One of the twins still had my braid in his hand and he pulled my head to see Lance crumple to the floor, most of his face gone… Dallas used hollow point bullets and they made a not so beautiful corpse. There had been a face there, but you know, it was difficult to see it.

The sound of someone spilling their guts could be heard. I guessed Zee. I could hear a door open and close as someone left the room. Huh. I didn't react as the blood seeped across the floor, the warmth that I felt against my knees as it soaked into my jeans. If my hands weren't tied, I would've just casually wiped away the blood on my face but being that they were, I just raised one eyebrow. It's not that I didn't feel bad for the kid but I couldn't do anything now. Sorry, Lance. Another body on my conscience. Least it ain't me.

"You gonna shoot me now?"

Dallas smirked and blew on the end of his gun as though he was some kinda hero from a movie. I glared up at him.

"No… Duo."

My name hit me like a blow to the gut. So much for my cover. So much for taking the beating to maintain it. Should've stayed away. I was too stubborn for my own good.

I laughed darkly. "So you know."

"Not difficult to find out."

"How long you known?"

"Now where's the fun in me telling you that?" Dallas asked and sauntered over to the nurses station and hopped up on it.

He tapped his gun on his thigh. I watched him and then glanced down to the pool of vomit that Zee had left in her absence. Then to the blood that was pooling over the floor. Then the corpse of Lance. Decent kids always seemed to get fucked over when they came into contact with me. It made me think of the last undercover. I'm sure Jamie was dead. The only kid that thought I wasn't a badass asshole. One of the few who looked at my eyes and realised that there was a person underneath the façade.

I got people killed. Always had. Always will. I shifted my body to stretch a little and carefully moved my wrists in the rope to see how much give there was. There was plenty. Twin one noticed and suddenly there was a hand pushing me face forward into the blood, I closed my mouth and turned my face to the side to try and avoid the contact with someone else's blood. Lance's. The chatty kid. The one I'd just got killed.

"No escape plans," the twin said. I don't think I'd heard him speak. And damn, he sounded mentally deficient. Okay, I thought he didn't have much in the intelligence department but his voice just sounded like some dumb jock in a teen show.

There was a boot on my back and the ropes were tied tighter around my wrists as I felt my clothing become completely saturated in blood. This was grim. Beyond grim. Yuk. There was brains and bone on me. I needed the world's hottest shower when I got out of here – if I got out of here. There were no guarantees as I was pulled up to my feet by my restrained hands.

"Check his braid. And his pockets," Dallas instructed.

The twin holding me patted me down to find my flick knife and he did the whole flicking out thing. It was the same as Antoine's heavy Gus had done and it had pissed me off then. I was tempted to kick out, sweep my legs underneath his in one swift motion and take him, break the rope around my wrists and get my knife back but I didn't know if I could. I could try but didn't really want another round of punches and kicks, you know.

The guy reached for my hair and it took all the self-restraint in me to not lash out as callous fingers ran down it, feeling for anything hidden. They seemed to discover my lock picks as stuff dropped to the floor. Damn it.

"Lock picks in your hair. Imaginative, hot shot."

"Hot shot?"

"Yeah, Mr Hot Shot former Gundam pilot. Don't have a mobile suit to hide behind now, do you, blue eyes?"

"Naw, but I seriously don't need one."

Dallas quirked a brow. "Back on his knees."

The forceful hands pushed me down and I complied – sometimes, it's better to bend and not break. Dallas approached me again and I decided to spit at him this time. He pistol whipped me across the face and my head snapped to the side. I was starting to lose my composure. I took a deep breath this time and thought about how Heero would handle this. And what he was hearing. Jesus. I imagined how I'd feel if I was listening to this if he was the one getting beaten on and it made me think. They'd come. Heero would come for me. Preventer agents in shiny jackets and I'd be extracted and Dallas could be interrogated.

Somehow the thought didn't make me feel better. I wanted to know. Wanted to uncover the shit that was going on in this rundown hospital. Wanted some satisfaction. Wanted some revenge. My blood was boiling and I decided to rile Dallas. Rule one. Broken.

"So what is this, Dallas? You think killing Lance in front of me means anything? Do you know how many people I've killed?"

"Do you?"

The answer was quick. I don't think I'd ever met someone who could match me in smart-assness.

"Naw, I didn't keep a count of every base, every gunshot, you know. Too busy."

I got a laugh at least, huh.

"This is me finding out what you know and who knows shit." He wandered away from me and towards the window. "You Preventers?"

"No, I'm here for my own fucking amusement."

"Blaise is Preventers, too."

"Fuck you. Don't bring him into this."

"He disappeared. Convenient."

"I told you. Smart guy."

"Vials. You know."

"Yup… L2 virus mark two and bullshit. Now in the hands of Preventers. Just a matter of time, Dallas."

"You really sure?" he said turning towards me. "I don't see no cars. No flashing lights. No 'copters."

"Give 'em time."

"How much time do you think you've got?"

"Geez, just kill me Dallas instead of all this macho posturing shit."

"So eager for death, Duo?"

"A hollow point to the face is so much more interesting than talking to you and listening to your bullshit."

I did defiant well. I know I did. I also knew he wasn't actually going to kill me.

"They called you Shinigami during the war," said another voice and I spun my head round to a guy sat on one of the seats in the waiting area. I hadn't clocked him earlier. Wondered if he'd been here the whole time. The guy from the park. He got up, smoothing down his clothes and walked towards me. "It means God of Death."

"Yeah and who the hell are you?"

"The benefactor," he said cryptically.

His clothing was better than all the gangs combined and he spoke with a clipped undefined accent. If I was hearing it right, it kinda sounded British but it was one of those vague accents that could be from anywhere. A lotta colony people had undefined accents. L2 was particularly American so most people spoke like I did. Though most with less swearing. Okay, just people who didn't come from the District and the bad part spoke with less swearing.

"The benefactor?"

"I gave Dallas and his gang this hospital in exchange for doing a few small jobs for me."

"Small jobs? Blowing shit up? Releasing a virus?"

"Trifling in comparison to the actions of a fifteen year old terrorist, I believe."

"Huh, you got me there."

We were at a stalemate it seemed.

"Get the body out of here, Dallas. I am not keen to have this conversation with the stench of blood. Get our guest something to wipe some of the blood from his face. It is quite distracting to look at."

Dallas snorted and seemed to hate being ordered around by the old dude but he nodded towards the twins. Twin two grabbed hold of Lance's feet and dragged him out of the room leaving a trail of blood across the floor.

Other twin was looking pissed. He wasn't someone who was gonna grab towels from someone like me. I was not worth the effort. Preventer pig and all. I thought about my perspective on cops and authorities prior to being one myself. I would hate Preventers if I wasn't one. It's all about perception. He did it though. Gotta give him the credit for that – after all, they had just watched Lance's face get half blown off.

Twin one brought paper towels and ineffectively swiped it across my face. I looked away from him and thought about being a bitch again and spitting. Decided against it as Mr Fancy Suit tutted.

"Give that to me. This is no way to treat a prisoner."

"Really? You were kinda fine watching me get the shit beat outta me."

"Yes, but that was a necessary component of this meeting, Mr Maxwell. I believe a little beating helps clear the mind."

Oh, yeah, my mind was seriously clear. He took the paper towels from twin and had the decency to spit on them – gross – and then move to my face to wipe away some of the blood. I wanted to throw up. This was not right in so many fucking ways.

"Plus we need you incapacitated."

"You think I'm incapacitated?"

Old dude laughed. "The legendary escape artist… but even escape artists die." He threw the balled paper towel to the floor and I glared at him. "I've seen your Preventer file. I've seen your psyche evaluations. I've seen your medical reports. It is an interesting read."

I snorted and let out a deep breath that blew up one of bangs. "Yeah, bet it makes a fun bed time story. But really, I'm not all that interesting. I'm just Joe Average and all."

"Ha, amusing but your file is very intriguing. You were immune to the virus as a child. You were never vaccinated but you were immune, were you not?"

My eyes widened a little. I suddenly knew were this was going.

"Do you think you are still immune?"

This is the point when I lost it. I jerked forward, my hands bound but my shoulders and head were free so I made my attempt to head butt. Forgetting that the twins were right behind me and they pulled back on my braid and I goddamn hissed at them. A new pain sensation joined the others of nearly having my scalp ripped out and I struggled but I was weaker than usual. I'd been beaten, I was sleep deprived, I can't remember the last time I'd eaten… I was useless, really. Should've stayed with Heero. Shoulda, coulda, woulda and all.

The sharpness of a needle, the way a vial looked in the dim light of the hospital seemed all too innocent. I'd had so many needles stuck in my veins over the years but I struggled. Struggled as three men held me down, one moved my braid away from the back of my neck, the old wound where I'd removed a chip with glass from what felt like years ago still bumpy and scarred. I stopped breathing as the needle broke through skin… as the plunger was pushed and the knowledge of a foreign substance entering my body and destroying me from inside. I stopped struggling as the needle popped back outta my skin and it was done. Nothing I could do now.

I glared up. "I really hope I'm still immune 'cause I'll enjoy it when I fucking rip you apart."

"Such eloquence. Such empty threats."

I coughed. It was purely hypochondria shit as the virus wouldn't work that quick as it had taken days from infection to death. Not long. Two days usually but there was time. Unless Mark Two meant it was stronger. I felt my vision blurring and started to feel my body want to slump. The twins and other guards had stepped away and now I knew I was fucked.

"I want to tell you a story. I feel perhaps you deserve it for all your hardships."

"Don't bore me to death."

This was the part in the movies when the bad guy tells you the conspiracy, the whole goddamn point of all this shit and I wanted him to start going mwah-ha-ha and stroke a white cat or something. I wanted to make a sarcastic comment something along those lines but my brain was not firing on all cylinders. Sue me.

"This won't bore you, I assure you. Once upon a time there was a colony cluster that had a problem with poverty. There were so many war orphans. So many drunks and whores and addicts that the colony government needed to purge. One day, they contacted a man who had been arrested for creating a particularly lethal party drug that had killed more than had got high. And they made a midnight agreement. All colonies had suffered plagues and illnesses. The flu could spread and kill a few thousand through the primitive air purification systems and no one would blink. So a virus was created that looked normal, natural even and it was released on a few subjects. It mutated. It killed. The government had an antidote for those that could afford it but the rest… perished."

I coughed and this time felt the bile and blood rise. Fuck. "You created the virus," I said – a statement of fucking fact not a question. My head was hurting. I wanted to sleep. My tongue felt big. Damn it all to hell.

He nodded. "I got paid. The government got what I wanted. A win for all, I think."

"And now?"

"Now… after the favour I did for L2, I started making my money in the District. Authorities turned a blind eye to me. I made my money. Party drugs, uppers and downer… whatever you want. And then the war ended and peace came and people wanted better. A less corrupt government came. A blonde billionaire wanted to help and I'm afraid I can't let that happen."

"Why not just kill him and fuck the virus?"

"Because Quatre Winner is just one man. An important man but a man. I will kill him as he annoyed me but one of the sisters might take over and complete the work he started while his body grows cold. A colony wide outbreak of virus, however, changes everything. This colony becomes the cesspit of the Earth Sphere full of the dying and the dead. Quarantined and abandoned. And I have the drugs to help… for those who succumb and have the money I have the antidote. For the immune I have drugs of oblivion as they watch the world around them die. I no longer run the District but the entire colony."

I slumped forward, my head swimming, small pinpricks of blue spots behind my eyes – I couldn't look at him anymore. I physically couldn't but also he made me sick. I didn't want to look in his eyes – one guy had killed so many people tinkering in a lab. Not getting his hands dirty. Just watching. Bile was rising in my throat and I then really hoped I would just vomit at his feet. That would be fun. I could already feel my muscles shaking and I was hot. Jesus was I hot.

"Seems you're not immune anymore, Duo…. Though we did give you three times the usual quantity."

I let out a weak laugh. "Them's the breaks, I guess."

"Get him locked up somewhere. I still don't trust that he'll die quietly."

The twins didn't seem to want to touch me but I wouldn't want to. I was going to puke and I was sweaty, pale and shivery. It was like getting a weeks' worth of flu in one hit. Least they had the dignity to give me far too much virus as they thought I was a threat, so you know, what was left of my pride could be reconciled with the fact I was gonna die like this after all the years of swearing I'd go down in a blaze of glory.

They half dragged me, half carried me along the same path as Lance's blood… kinda poetic and my head had bowed. I wasn't giving up goddamnit but I was too weak… too weak to do much else.

They threw me into what had been a medical supply closet and I realised that it was tiny, dark and that they were putting me in there with a corpse without half his face. They undid the ropes – fuck knows why, and then pushed me to the floor which seemed cold but nice. Comfy. I finally vomited, ugh, all over the floor but there was nothing in my stomach so it was all bile and liquid and it  _hurt_ every muscle in my stomach and my back. I wiped my hand across my face weakly and realised I hadn't been locked in yet and I turned a little to see Zee in the doorway looking kinda sad.

"Don't do what the guy says," I said.

"Roth pays for the hospital. Pays for us to have our families looked after. Is gonna pay for us to get off the colony when he releases the virus."

I blinked, dumbly. Guy was called Roth and he promised the world to the kids. In exchange, you explode shit, kill people and help unleash a virus. And he doesn't raise a finger. Well, damn.

"Don't trust him… I can help."

She looked at me, I didn't wanna know how bad I looked, covered in blood and my own sick… I'm guessing I ain't a pretty picture.

"Sorry," she said, real quiet. "I really am."

And she closed the door leaving me in total darkness. Aw fuck.

 


	15. Rescue Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Rescue Me - You Me at Six ft. Chiddy

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Rescue Me**

The room was tiny. There was the smallest amount of light coming through the gaps between the door and the doorframe – enough to let me figure out a little about my prison but not enough to see much. I shakily got to my feet, using the support of the shelves that used to contain all the medication to stand up. The door was heavy and had a mechanical lock that didn't work (no power) as well as the normal lock. I guessed that people stealing medication was the main issue with a hospital in the District so this was as secure a place that they could put me in.

I felt the door and made a stupid attempt to kick at it and see if it could be moved. I fucking knew that even in top Duo Maxwell condition I sure as hell couldn't move it… in my current state it just sent juddering pain through my limbs and I slid back down to the floor away from my own sick and Lance's blood. No lock picks. No way of getting out. Damn it, really looks like I'd done it this time. My eyes could just make out Lance's body.

"Sorry, buddy, really didn't mean to get you killed, kid."

My voice already sounded harsh and deep. My throat was a scratchy and I was already coughing up stuff that I couldn't see in the dim light. It felt thick so I'm going with blood. I leaned my head back against the empty shelves and moved my legs out in front of me and tried to breathe normally but each breath created this weird rattling in my chest that sounded really, really bad. Huh. So this is dying.

You'd think I'd be prepared for it, you know, being that death had been following me around like a shadow since before I can remember. That I would just go into that sweet night or whatever the hell it was meant to be… but I felt fucking cheated. This was not how I was supposed to go – this was not the right death for me. I'd not saved anyone just been a dumb fuck who didn't know when to quit. I coughed again and felt it rip through my body, I drew my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them and waited for the only thing that would save me.

The unshakeable faith I had in Heero.

It was then I raised my wrist to my near my mouth.

"Heero," I began, my voice weird and shaky. "I don't know if you can hear me. Please delete this after you hear this, whatever happens, I don't want my guts being publically broadcastable to the Preventers and the others. This is for you."

I stopped for a second feeling ridiculously stupid. I was sat talking to my wrist – my dying words to the world and  _him_ and it all felt so laughable. I wondered if I was gonna start hallucinating soon. I'd seen that happen when some of the kids had got near the end. That was usually the sign to leave them behind. Solo had hallucinated. About being caught and trapped. His fear, I suppose, always was that his kids would be separated, trapped and end up in the worst kinda homes and juvenile "facilities." If I hallucinated about my fears what the hell would my mind conjure? Whatever it was, it would be bad and that was not gonna be fun. I had too many ghosts. Too many regrets. Too much shit.

Would it be Father Maxwell disapproving of the life I'd lived – becoming the cold blooded killer, screwing around with guys, taking the Lord's name in vain on a daily basis? Would it be Solo, dead, and covered in blood and all zombiefied and shit? Hell, would it be Heero dying, dead or alive and rejecting me, hating me, disgusted with me… fuck I  _really_ didn't want to hallucinate.

I pushed that cheerful thought to the side and spoke quietly into the darkness.

"I don't get you. I never have. And I'm in a lot of trouble." I stopped again. I didn't know why the fuck I was doing this. "I know we have this thing… if I survive, which right now is kinda a big if, I want you to know that I… oh shit, I don't know if I love you or not. All I ever wanted from you was… nope, that's wrong. It was never just fucking. Even in the beginning. You were just like my, Jesus, kryptonite – that's a pop culture reference, look it up… Ah, please promise me you'll delete this. I'm rambling and it sounds so shitty in my head that I can't imagine what this sounds like on a recording."

I blinked in the darkness and hugged my knees tighter to my body. It was cold in the medication storage. I guessed it was kept this way as it used to house medication but I couldn't tell if that was the only reason I was cold. I'd been hot, my clammy skin was now drying and now I was shivering again. Ugh. Hated my body being weak.

"If you don't save me…it doesn't matter. You don't have to save me. You don't have to be the hero for me… be the hero for the others – be the good guy. Save Quatre. Start those weird telepathic conversations with Trowa again. Marry Relena. Shit, do anything but… you have to tell Wufei. Tell him none of this is his fault… and shit, don't go crazy and don't beat the shit outta him or anything but… but say I cared about him in my own way. That maybe if it wasn't for you... that… that we might have been good together. Aw, fuck it all, 'Ro. Don't hurt him. He was there for me when you weren't…"

My brain was seriously fucked at this point. I felt like I could see him but it was him during the war. It was me in that cell and him with that gun pointing at my head. Those intense eyes. My weak body. Looking death down the barrel of a gun – waiting for the bullet. I'd totally believed he would kill me despite everything. There wasn't any affection then. Maybe after… but then, nope and I accepted that. I knew looking into his eyes that I could see death and I guess, I would have welcomed it from him, you know. The boy with cold blue eyes and the Gundam with wings and all… I closed my eyes against the darkness and the image disappeared.

"I think I love you but I'm not really sure what it means. I think I maybe always did, you know." I coughed harshly. "Damn, such a sucky way to go, Heero… such a lame way to die."

I laughed shakily – it sounded hollow and awful in my own ears. I leaned my head back against the shelves uncomfortably and drifted into uneasy sleep knowing the awful feeling of being helpless and being a failure.

My head span as the door slid open and light flooded my deprived senses. I kinda thought that whatever the hell the super-virus was had fried my brain totally or maybe the one too many knocks to the skull had done that. It took a few moments to register that it was Heero. And it took a few more for me to realise this was not Barge and he was not pointing a gun at my face and I was not welcoming death…

I wanted to say something amazingly sarcastic and witty but that meant engaging my brain. I wanted to say something like "just like old times, babe" or just say "you're really gonna shoot me, aren't ya" and take us down the screwed up memory lane of this thing we called a fucking relationship but I blinked, I coughed and I said one word.

"Heero."

Then he was there next to me and I saw Wufei behind him in full Preventer get-up. I had no idea of the time span or how long I'd been in the goddamn medical closet and I had no idea what the virus had done to me and I kinda wished Heero didn't have to see me like this… so goddamn weak. And damn, I was like a breathing ball of contagion and virus strains, a biological weapon of coughing and puke.

"'m infected…" was about all that I could manage as words were really difficult.

I was beginning to think how the hell did my tongue fit in my mouth as it felt like a weird piece of muscle too big and my throat was a raw surface of knives.

"I'm vaccinated."

"…cool…"

"I have the anti-virus. I am going to inject it into your neck. You must not move, understand?"

I nodded finding the whole talking thing was hard. Heero gently moved some stray strands of hair away from my face and neck and I could see in the dim light another needle, another set of drugs and I coughed.

"S'rry."

"I only need one second."

The line had set me up for some kinda sex joke if I was in normal condition – not that Heero had any problems with staying power – but I gave another small nod and turned to the side as he injected into my neck and then his lips met my cheek in the softest kiss I'd ever felt. I turned back to his eyes and wanted to know what had possessed him to do that considering the shitty state of me and I couldn't tell what he was thinking but I think… I scared him.

"Can you stand?"

"You should wait for the paramedics, Yuy."

I saw Heero's head turn and I guessed 'Fei got the full extent of the Death Glare, patent pending, and he must have backed off at least a little. Heero's eyes turned back to me and my incredible patheticness. I answered him weakly.

"Think so… need help, though."

He nodded and hooked his arms underneath mine and I felt the world go all spinny and weird but I was on my feet with my head resting on his shoulder. One arm was slung around his back as tight as I could while he pretty much took all my weight. I could take steps but was totally reliant on Heero's strength. Huh. Old times. Seems like he was getting used to carrying my dead weight around.

"Took y'r time."

Wufei humpfed. "We lost your signal and we assumed the worst."

I blinked and my gaze turned to Heero's face. He looked strained – he looked for all the world like a man who hadn't slept, who was wound so tight that he was all coiled muscles and anger. Jesus. Almost wanted to say sorry for not staying with him. Wanted to say something to get rid of that… rigidness. He was holding everything in. And if they lost my signal… they would only lose contact with the communication chip if I was dead or somehow the signal had been blocked. They worked using the heat and movement of a body that was alive… and if there was no signal. I knew where my mind would go if he was in the same situation I'd been in. I'd see that rag doll body after his self-destruction. I'd see the blood.

"Can't kill death, y'know."

Wufei just shook his head. "Get him out of here, Yuy."

I leant on Heero, feeling that steady solid body carrying me, my head on his shoulder as we walked down the dully lit corridors of the hospital. A few Preventer agents clocked us but didn't do anything – guessed 'Fei's team knew to expect a couple of undercover operatives and I think between my grossness and Heero's death glare, we were gonna get out without anyone giving a shit. I realised I felt drunk without the fun of drinking – my head hurt, the world was fun and spinning and I couldn't walk properly in a straight line. Huh. Least with alcohol you usually have the night before and deserve the feeling.

We arrived out, it taking double the necessary time with my general weakness and taking steady steps. I didn't feel any better after the anti-virus. Things like that need time to work, you know, and plus I needed sleep. Food. A bed. A shower. Conveniences I'd been denied for too long.

"Let's get a hotel."

Heero glanced at me in my shitty state. "You need medical attention."

"No, I need sleep… food…"

If my brain wasn't fried and my body wasn't a complete wreck, I would've added sex into that equation but I was far too gone for being even remotely horny even though I was in his arms. Even though I could smell that weird clean smell he always had, even though I could feel the warmth of his body against my clammy cold skin and he was holding me so goddamn tightly to his side like he was kinda never gonna let me go again. I wanted to suggest that as I was able to walk on my two legs, with much support, but still my own legs, that I was not a weak moron that needed to be hooked up to machines and quarantined. I didn't want a Preventer safe house. I didn't want doctors in white coats and shit and debriefings and psyche evals. I was trying to persuade him to be rebellious – to abandon protocol and just  _do_ something but I didn't have the mental capacity to do so and I couldn't use my body which would be my other technique of Heero persuasion. I was covered in dried blood and puke – I'm surely the least seductive I've ever been. He must really like me if he's willing to hold onto me.

My argument would've disintegrated anyway as then my body decided to erupt in a massive coughing fit that seemed to rip parts of my insides out and made me hunch forward. Think I might've been on my knees without Heero. He just did that look – I'm gonna call it "the look" as it was the slight raise of one eyebrow accompanied by a little smirk. It was the I-know-better look that meant I was being an idiot. Think he might get a lotta use out of it if we work stuff out.

Wufei had caught up with us as we got outside the building and threw some car keys in Heero's direction which he caught – always so goddamn perfect – and I was glad the light was fading and it was like, late afternoon from the day cycle's light. My eyes hurt. Jesus. Everything hurt.

"I'll rendezvous with you at the safe house tomorrow, Yuy."

"Roger."

Ha! Mission speak. He still talks like that. God, he so needs to spend more time around me. My interior monologue was going but actual dialogue was tricky so we started to walk away and then I stopped, stalling a few metres from the exit of the emergency room. There were a lot of Preventer vehicles and a  _lot_ of Preventers around but no gang. Unless they'd arrested them before I was freed from my itty-bitty prison then it meant that they were gone. I stalled as I overheard shit I was not meant to be listening to – as a Preventer, a guy older than Wufei but knew how to defer to the mission commander, reported to him.

"The entire morgue has been emptied of vials, Agent Chang."

"You're kidding?"

My words were kinda hoarse and scratchy but 'Fei and said agent looked over at us. Heero was trying to get my ass moving but realised without doing an inappropriate and damn near embarrassing fire man's lift, I had the tiniest bit of strength and stubbornness in me to ask questions that I didn't need to ask. They call it extraction for a reason. You are extracted. Mission is over. Finite. Complete. Off to the "real" world and life again.

Preventer agent looked at me like I was shit on his shoe. Being that I was gross and tatted up and  _looked_ like a gang banger he probably had reason. Plus I was being held up by another dude who looked vaguely bad ass if not so much gang banger. Heero still looked too straight to be a criminal. Though not straight in other ways… straying off subject. Fuck my brain is not working right.

'Fei decided to ignore us and talk to Mr Normal Preventer Agent.

"Explain, Agent."

Considering how the agent had looked at me and 'Ro, he was freaking terrified of Wufei. Ha. Most of these agents were twice his age. Gotta love the intimidation factor of one quite short Chinese dude.

"The morgue draws were all open and there are no signs of the vials. The gang must have taken them before we –"

"You've searched the entire hospital."

"Not yet, sir – but-"

"But nothing, Agent. Return to team alpha and continue searching the lower floors. Instruct team beta to conduct a thorough search of the top floors."

The guy nearly cowered. He wanted to say something back to Wufei. I'm pretty sure he did but he was getting the coldest glare I'd ever seen and considering I've been on the end of  _many_ of Wufei's angry looks, I can say it's bad. I was immune to them but his underlings? Not so much. Agent Terrified left back into the hospital.

"I thought I ordered you to go."

"You did," Heero responded.

"Get to the safe house, Maxwell. This is none of your concern."

"You haven't got the gang or the vials."

I managed to say that sentence but then started coughing again and Wufei was clearly giving Heero some kind of signal that now he was truly pissed we were still here.

"That would summarise the situation, Maxwell." His eyes were goddamn scary when he looked at me and my pathetic coughing fit. I was going with the fact that him and his Preventer team were all vaccinated but he wanted my diseasedness out of the way and safely locked up. His eyes looked up to meet Heero's. "Yuy. Safe house. Now."

I didn't say anything just let myself be dragged away a little by those arms that bend metal and pop bones back in. I had no energy to argue, no energy to say what I wanted to say… keep me in the game. Let me find Dallas. Please, 'Fei, this is not over for me. But I had nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Well, shit.

The slow walk towards the graveyard of cars to a car that was working seemed to take forever and the world was suspended in a sort of peace for me. Maybe this was meditation. Maybe I needed to be so whacked out on chemicals and shit to feel some semblance of peace. But I guess I'd figured something. Solo's death. Not my fault. Maxwell Church? Still my fault but hey, you can't win them all.

For some reason, I glanced back towards the hospital, my head doing that weird spinning thing – drunk without the fun, remember? – and I saw that sugar skull graffiti and its diamond eyes seemed to be winking at me and then the world did stop. At least for a few moments.

I heard a crackle of static on the air and realised Heero had a communicator with him that previously had not been working. In hindsight, you know, I would've figured a few things out. Heero would've. 'Fei would've. We weren't teenage terrorists for nothing. My signal had been cut off but  _all_ communication wasn't working. No cells. No walkies. No communicators. All communication systems jammed.

Plus we'd had traps set for us before. I bet New Edwards was still hung around Heero's neck like the symbolic albatross.

There's a moment in situations like this when everything goes quiet. Where the air seems to be sucked outta everywhere – your lungs, around you and the air in a colony is stilted and weird anyway. Then the hospital went.

The explosion ripped through the building, a moment of complete silence before the eruption of debris and glass and shattering and kaboom…

I'd seen enough explosions, the glittering moment of beautiful destruction and in my drug-addled and diseased state I just watched before the aftershock… before the shards of building and glass begun to rain down. Heero had me on the floor before I knew what was happening. His body was entirely on top of mine, my face in the dirt, and his weight on my back. I moved my head slightly as the world caught on fire around us and I saw his hand on mine on the ground… his tanned fingers around mine.

There was a second I felt like we were suspended in time as the air around us vibrated with the aftershock of the explosion and the deafening roar had rendered me deaf for a few seconds. Then it was over, the weird ringing in my ears as alarms and sirens could be heard through the heavy fog in my brain and Heero's dead weight was off me and I managed to bring myself to my knees.

His hand was on my shoulder, our eyes met, his mouth moved and I couldn't hear but I just nodded. I knew the word was "status" so I just nodded. I was fine and but I could see blood… his blood. Oh fuck. Where was -

"Wufei."

Heero got me to my feet and I could see a large gash through his clothes, some glass, some debris – fuck knows but his back had taken a beating. We staggered like a coupla of drunks as the fire raged through the hospital and we scanned for a particular person on the ground… not a fucking body… not a body.

Wufei unsteadily rose to standing, swaying on his feet and holding his arm awkwardly against his chest, he made a motion to move towards the building but Heero was there to stop him… God knows, there could be more explosions… the fire could spread….

We were Gundam pilots. We didn't need to say anything to each other as we knew there was danger the entire building was unstable, we had done enough of this shit ourselves to know that you don't go running into a burning building that's just gone up with a shitload of explosives. Wufei knew that, knew that he had to wait for the goddamn first responder team – had to wait for fire rescue but I could see the conflict in his shaking body.

There had been two Preventer teams inside under his command.

Per Preventer extraction team? 15 souls.

There was nothing to say. We'd fucked up. And the biggest post-war terrorist act had just happened in front of our eyes.

 


	16. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Broken - Seether ft. Amy Lee

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Broken**

The shower spray is hot. Its damn near too hot as I sat in the corner of the stall, my knees drawn up to my chest, the t-shirt clinging to my skin, my boxers still on – I'd shucked off the jeans and got rid of my biker boots – I'd accomplished that small task and stumbled to turn on the water as hot as I could stand it. Then the floor had seemed like the best idea being that my body couldn't support itself and I'd stayed here. I felt shivery despite the heat as I watched through unblinking eyes the water that runs off my body. It's pink, it's water and blood mixing together and I watch it as it goes down the drain.

My hands are kinda shaky as I reach for the end of my hair and snap off the band, securing it around my wrist. I run my fingers through it a little and more red comes out into the water.

A safe house. Seen enough of these but this was probably the goddamn nicest. Wu was getting important in the Preventers. Or maybe we were important to the Preventers. Fuck knows. Heero had gone to clock in with our Preventer agent guards – do some perimeter shit. Old habits. Hard to break.

He'd left me here assuming with my stubbornness that I could cope with the simple task of undressing and showering myself. Assuming I wasn't a total incompetent. But I just had nothing right now, you know.

I don't know how long I'd sat here like this when the door opened and Heero was there – still bloody and dirty. He didn't hesitate, just walked towards the stall fully clothed and walked under the spray and sat next to me.

He didn't speak. I didn't either. I wanted to tell him he was a stupid asshole as he still had jeans, Converse and a denim jacket on, but hell, I just let him move my head to against his chest and his head rested on top of mine and one arm held me tight as water ran over us. I looked forward to see more blood and dirt mix. Huh, seemed to be more coming off him than had come off me. Weird.

You know, I talk and I talk and I talk but probably the worst thing with me is when I stop. It means that I'm thinking and generally me thinking is a dangerous and self-pitying shit load of angsty teenageness. It ain't pretty. He knows I blame myself for not predicting this – he knows I feel like a complete and utter shit. He knows I'm hurt, that I'm bruised, that I'm weak so I'm not gonna say anything to make this into some kinda pity party. We were both good at the blame and guilt thing – I knew he felt responsible too, you know.

Technically, we had – both of us with Wufei's blessing – given Dallas the C4. We'd given him the loaded and cocked gun and the reason to pull the trigger. But Jesus, we were not gonna talk about this, instead we were gonna sit in our clothes in a fucking shower stall and feel completely useless and… lost, you know. Broken, I guess. Two broken soldiers with the day's losses making its way down the drain… huh, something poetic about it all.

"Your clothes are wet," I managed to say after what seemed like forever.

"So are yours."

"Least I took off my jeans and boots."

I'd tried to be light-hearted but there was no mistaking the way I sounded. It was my voice, damn it, but it wasn't quite me who was speaking. He grunted, the good olde monotone Perfect Soldier shit sliding back into place and I moved to sit up off him, reaching towards the water and turning it off as it had started to run cold. His hair was plastered to his face, clothes completely soaked through but he looked… closed down. Like I was.

We didn't get up instead he carefully started removing the denim jacket and I could see him wince. He threw it out of the stall with a loud wet thwak sound.

"Heero… fuck."

He'd leaned forward to accomplish that task and I saw the large gash on his back, I could see abrasions on his shoulders and some on his arms. The white tank he'd been wearing underneath was stained with blood. The tank followed, sticking slightly to the congealing blood and was thrown in the same direction with his usual accuracy. He removed the Converse last and they were all soaked and squelchy. Canvas shoes - so not good in the rain never mind in a fucking shower which you've just walked into fully clothed and sat down in for… however long we've been here.

"You need stitches, 'Ro."

"I need to look at your wounds."

He got to his feet still in his soaked jeans and nothing else and I hesitated. I liked the corner of the shower. Plus I was shivering now and my hair was down and I was a goddamn mess but his hand was offered and I took it, he dragged my ass up.

Carefully he lifted up my t-shirt and I tried not to shy away from his touch. They'd done me over good, the bruises were already forming but only a little of the blood that had washed down the drain was mine. Most of it was Lance's.

"It's nothin'."

I averted his eyes and didn't say anything as his fingers touched my skin and I realised we were probably having some kind of "moment" like a moment in a relationship where you should say something – declare undying love or some shit. That we'd both nearly died and he thought I  _had_ died and we were meant to hold onto each other as something precious, as something above everything, you know, but I was wounded and sick and I'd been oddly relieved when I realised they'd lost my signal and he heard none of my rambling from the medication closet. Love – big word. Scary word. Sure as hell scares me.

You'd think that realising that we had nothing to say, we'd default to just fucking each other's brains out and all but I don't think I had the capacity for sex. I barely had the capacity for standing in front of him, for him touching my skin, for us shirtless and close but so far apart. Goddamnit.

I should reach out, I know I should but I was shaking and it was just not… not the fucking time. There were too many barriers still. Too much we weren't willing to say to one another.

"There's a Preventer doctor who wants to see you."

"Awesome," I replied.

The next four hours I went through a battery of blood tests and other shit. The doc was fine – a blonde dude in his mid-thirties with wedding ring and security clearance who kept an eye on me and stitched Heero's wounds up with calculated precision. We walked around the safe houses like ghosts, watching the news filter through on the large plasma screen. Heero was itching to just hack into the Preventer database and get the full reports, I could tell but you know, he stayed close to me rather than going to get a laptop as I think he thought I was about to do something stupid. I wasn't right _now_ gonna do anything reckless. I was weak and needed time to recuperate. Afterwards? Hell, I wanted Dallas. I wanted him to fucking scream. And I was gonna get my wish. Shinigami doesn't lose his target. Doesn't lose those who need to meet their maker. And Dallas wasn't gonna disappear. And Roth? He was gonna suffer so much worse… death was too good for that asshole. Death was too clean.

The news began to come through. Reporters stood in front of the rubble that had once been a building as the information ran across the bottom of the screen. Eighteen Preventer agents had died. That was them just, poof, gone and then there were seven in critical condition in the best damn hospital in L2. A few had minor injuries and some had been unharmed. Wufei was pissed and had a dislocated shoulder we'd discovered in a brief comm message but other that than was his usual fiery, angry and righteous self.

The press were already shoving microphones in front of anybody vaguely important for comment. Une had made an official statement that was repeatedly broadcast. Relena appeared deploring the act and I saw Heero flinch slightly at seeing her on screen. Sore subject still, baby? You abandoned her a long time ago. The usual suspects appeared but one didn't. One more sensational news station had already started making connections between the act and the Winner Corporations L2 Project. The spokesperson for Winner Corp had only said "no comment" and there were now enquiries about where blondie was when the shit was going down. He was in hiding, dickwads, due to these kids and an asshole with an evil plan. I threw the remote in the direction of the screen but it kinda just stalled in the air rather than my usually awesome aim.

Doc suggested sleep. So I slept. I woke up having not slept anywhere near enough to find Heero in the same bed and it's a fucking single but since I have no idea how long I've slept for and how long he's been here I'm guessing my usual no snuggling or contact when sleeping thing has been overridden by exhaustion. I reach for water and he stirs next to me, his body really warm next to mine and I drink from the bottle before passing it to him. We sleep again. We recover. I don't dream. I'm kinda wondering if I'd been giving a fucking sedative. I'm a sneaky bastard and sure as hell Wufei knew I wouldn't be leaving this operation without a fight.

He's next to me when I wake up sometimes, limbs somehow entangled in mine, a hand somewhere on my skin – his temperature always seems too goddamn hot so I try to move but I'm next to the wall and I'm stuck in the covers and I want space, damn it, but then if he's gone I'm completely blindsided. I just wanted him. I never said I was a contradictory bastard – I'm totally not very good at this needing someone for something beyond sex so since we weren't fucking this was confusing the shit outta me.

It got to the fourth day we were here and 'Fei was meant to rendezvous with us and work out what the fuck had happened. I'd managed to sleep on and off, stopped ripping my guts out when coughing, eaten solid food and finally seemed to be fully clean of all the blood and bone. I'd been given a multi-coloured array of shots and felt like a human pin-cushion and God knows how many pints of blood vampire doc had taken. Didn't want to know and didn't know why he was doing it on a four hourly basis. Was thinking he was taking it in my sleep as well. Really was a fucking vampire.

Apparently my reaction to the virus was "unusual" and the dosage should've killed me within hours. I'd spent nearly eight hours in the medication storage. Heero informed me of that little nugget and didn't say much else. From hearing my signal cut off to actually finding me there had been  _eight_ hours. I knew practically they had to organise shit. The extraction teams weren't located on colony so it was down to the Preventer regional office plus the members of the undercover ops team that 'Fei travelled with. Plus there was no plan to remove me – it just became necessary to remove me. I didn't want to know how Heero had reacted – if it was him, I'd have gone protocol be damned and gone get him. I think he did try to, you know. He mumbled something about being detained. Guess Wufei knew the risks of Heero going in alone to retrieve me and decided the only way to stop the Perfect Soldier is to knock him out or lock him up. So he'd done one.

I looked over at him and he was sleeping and Jesus, he sure looked peaceful. I slipped out of the bed and guessed doc had given him a sedative and a  _strong_ one at that as he didn't move at all. He'd popped his stitches out twice in the last day from over-exertion and none of that was due to me. He'd been dreaming. Naw, let me rephrase – he'd been having some nightmares.

I grabbed some grey sweats and a Preventer sweatshirt and walked down the stairs of our swanky townhouse to secure coffee. There were two Preventer agents located in the building at all times. I walked expecting to see Jenkiss who was kinda cool but stopped at the door of the kitchen as I saw a familiar black ponytail and a rumpled uniform. His arm was in a sling awkwardly over his shoulder and he was staring at the black coffee.

"Hey."

He looked up to see me and appraised me. My hair wasn't braided, I'd given that up for a ponytail that took it off my face but it made me feel slightly vulnerable. I still look like shit. The sweatshirt is about two sizes too big and slides off my shoulders, exposing the angel wings on my arm and shoulder.

Wufei nodded.

I get coffee and I feel him watching every movement. "Yuy?"

"Asleep. Guess doc gave him a sedative. He didn't move when I climbed over him."

Black eyes looked back down to his coffee as I leaned against the counter. Did it make him uncomfortable that we were sharing a bed or something? Jesus, why was I thinking he was interested in my sex life after all the shit that had just happened? I'm totally self-centred and stupid sometimes. Yeah, always think everything is about me.

"You okay?"

"I have a dislocated shoulder. I am fine."

"I don't mean that."

"Maxwell, I have spent the last few days speaking to newly made widows and partners. I have sat in a hospital as seven men fight for their life. I have been supervising the excavation of what once was a hospital. I feel okay is an inadequate word and far from how I feel."

I had no response for that. I'd never seen him shaken up. Wufei was angry, pissy and goddamn fiery but he was always in control of his emotions. He was solid and calm. He took deep breaths before he said something important and profound. He was just so _together._ Out of all of us he was the least screwed up, or so I figured. Me and Heero were a package of volatility and barriers and confusion. Quatre and Trowa were the perfect couple who had to hide all their shit. They were masks and roles and playing something out for the public. 'Fei was just Wufei. Together. Controlled. Now, he wasn't.

"I'm sorry."

The words were lame. Sorry, Duo? Sorry for the people I got killed? Sorry for Wufei for having to tell those people – "hey is that Mrs what's-her-name with your two point four children? Yeah, your hubby ain't coming back. He's been blown to kingdom come so yeah, great, bye!" Sorry for not getting the gang and Dallas and Roth? Yup, all of the above.

"Sorry is an inadequate word." He moved off the stool and walked towards the sink and poured what remained down the sink. "And it is not correct. Things cannot always be predicted. We have to do what we feel is right in the moment."

"You sound like Heero… his following emotions bullshit."

"I don't know whether that is a compliment or an insult."

I laughed darkly. "I don't either, you know."

We stood for a moment. We were kinda close. Out of all of us, I'd never seen 'Fei remotely vulnerable and right now he was. He wasn't showing his emotions totally – there just was something in the way he stood that I could tell he was messed up. I reached out and regretted it immediately as he started from my hand touching his and our eyes met and it was totally the wrong thing to do. He wasn't a physical comfort kinda guy and plus it was confusing and weird between us. And I was very conscious that Heero was asleep upstairs and apart from sleeping with each other, we weren't being very touchy feely. I moved away a little and took a sip of the coffee, tried to pull up the sweatshirt to hide my shoulders and looked away.

"I heard the recording," he said quietly.

I think I managed an "oh" and a nearly choking on my coffee thing but that was about it.

"Yuy didn't. You can have it - we lost your signal thirty minutes after you finished speaking. It's deleted from the Preventer files."

Wufei pulled a small data disc from his pocket and it looked pretty harmless in the low light of the kitchen. It looked goddamn innocent but I felt like it was a grenade. No wonder he'd shied away from my touch – in that recording there was me telling Heero I loved him but also me telling 'Fei we coulda been good together. It was a double punch in the gut for him. I must seriously enjoy screwing with people's emotions somewhere in my depraved mind.

"He didn't hear any of it?"

"Once we established that you were compromised, Yuy was… difficult."

"Difficult?"

"It became necessary to detain him until we were ready to move."

"He mentioned something about that…"

Heero and difficult? Hell, yeah I could see that and he'd have been kicking himself that he hadn't persuaded me to stay and not go back to the hospital and get beaten and injected. I reached for the lil data disk and slipped it into the pocket of the sweatpants and went to sit on the stools away from him. Creating distance.

"Guess I should say sorry again," I shrugged. "I was outta it, you know, didn't really know what I was saying and all."

Wufei only studied me closely and I squirmed under his gaze. Oh yeah, I did know what I'd been saying to some extent but let's say when your facing death things you bottle up and pretend don't exist come out. Plus I was spacey. I'm gonna go with that. Rather than dealing with the emotional stuff in the middle of this.

"You want to go after Dallas and Roth."

It wasn't a question. He just stated the fact. I shrugged again and glanced at my wrist and that goddamn chip that had already got me into trouble. He noticed my hesitation and produced a tiny little device I recognised – a jammer. Being stealthy and shit, I'd carried a pocket jammer for years and plus the whole thing with Deathscythe was the hyper-jammer. 'Fei didn't want the Preventer brass to hear this conversation. That made me curious.

"Hell yeah but ain't we extracted?"

"The psychologist and debrief team arrive in two hours. I would advise that you are not here when they appear."

"The doc and the agents?"

"We'll knock them out," said a calm voice.

I turned and looked over my shoulder and Heero was stood in the doorway. He had an impressive case of bed head and I  _so_  wanted to comment on it but didn't. His eyes met 'Fei's over my head.

"Yuy."

"Chang."

You'd always think they didn't know each other with the way they spoke to one another. Jesus.

"You understand that I am not helping you in anyway. That you are now alone and without Preventer sanctions."

Heero nodded with a grunt and came to sit next to me.

"We're, like, rogue?"

"Rogue would be an appropriate term. I know nothing. I will deny everything. You will knock me and the agents out. You will relieve us of weapons. You will be put on the Preventer watch list and you could be arrested for disobeying orders."

"So we become wanted men? Wow, kinda like we're the bad guys in all this."

Heero snorted in response. "How many Preventer operatives are searching L2?"

Practical shit. Gotta love it. I leaned back on my chair as far as it would go and looked up at the ceiling instead. Yeah, the broadcasts were saying increased Preventer presence on colony for "safety" – the bombing was being blamed on a gang rivalry story rather than anything remotely terroristy so yeah, how many Preventers were going to be on colony was a damn fine question. As we were gonna go from ignored to wanted men in ten seconds flat.

"I am not ranked high enough to know that information. Officially, I am to debrief the two of you and I am off the case."

"You been fired?"

"Maxwell, you idiots are my team. My  _team_  just got eighteen Preventer agents killed."

That stopped any smart-ass remark from flying out of my mouth. I know I only got an "idiot" from 'Fei when he was really pissed. Heero seemed to flinch at the insult. Wondered if he didn't get pissy Wufei as much as me. That would figure. I bet he's a much better behaved agent than me none withstanding trying to come and rescue me. And oh yeah, I feel fucking terrible about those agents, so awesome. I looked down at my hands and started running my fingers over my tattoos and the stars around my wrists. Stars for the dead, you know. I didn't have enough body for a star for every soul I'd killed but there were enough to symbolise the amount of death I'd cause whether direct or not. Heero hand was suddenly on mine as if he knew what I was thinking. I blinked and looked back to 'Fei.

"Unofficially, Une knows that you two are the best chance we have to get Roth and Dallas. There is a leak within the Preventers. They pre-empted us. They had your files. There is a concern that the only way to finish this is for it to be off the books."

Heero just nodded and accepted this – that was him. Get orders – go do mission. Simple. I wanted to ask a ton of questions but I just shrugged. I wanted my chance at Dallas and Roth so I'm not gonna say no. Wufei's eyes met mine with a hellavua lotta meaning there. He'd heard my little confessional. Figured that he was trying to get me to repeat that shit to Heero before things went south. Give him the recording to hear my rambling. Maybe Wufei was trying to atone or something. He'd kept us apart for three years and God only knows what will happen after this. We could be bunking in a deep space prison detention facility. And orange jumpsuits? So not a good look on Shinigami.

If we didn't get Dallas and Roth or  _something,_  us disappearing was bad and whatever we did was unsanctioned and criminal. The morality of undercover work was always murky at best as you end up becoming something you're not in the process but now we wouldn't even be undercover officially. Now the whole morality shit was blown open. Anything was up for grabs. Rogue agents. Kinda sounded cool.

"I am going to work perimeter with Jenkiss. I would suggest you prepare."

We went to the room we'd been sharing, getting the Preventer go bags that had been provided for us and working quickly to work out what we needed to take from them. We'd travel light. No computers. No communication methods. That meant that we had to remove my chip. It was inevitable thing but I was leaving that until the last possible moment, you know. Should just borrow a jammer but then I'm a walking fuzz of messing with the technology around me – not good. Kinda obvious.

Then we were done and we were stood in this room and all that was left to put on street clothes and knock doc, Jenkiss and Knowles out. Oh, yeah and Wufei. Think we should do a game of rock, paper, scissors to see who's gonna end up with a pissed off Wufei at the end of this mission. I was hoping it wasn't me. I'm sure he could kick my ass.

"We're gonna look like the bad guys," I said.

"You said when we first met that I was the bad guy."

I approached him and gently put my arm round his waist. "Yeah but I shot you. Twice. Kinda made me the bad guy. Plus now I got the tatts and the attitude. I so look like the bad guy."

He gave me this little smirk and I decided to kiss it off him. And like that I'm trying to jump into his skin and I'm trying to show him what I said in that goddamn medication closet because I'm shitty at emotions and I'm not ready to say things but I need him to  _know_ but I'm outta words.

We bump back onto the single bed and he falls first and I'm on top of him and I'm removing that sweatshirt that's far too big for me and his fingers run over my bruises and I realise he feels bad so I lean down and my lips are on his neck and then I'm impatiently trying to get rid of the tank top.

"Duo."

I don't stop. I don't whether he wants me to – his voice is strained and I'm not sure what he wants but I'm trailing lips and tongue down his chest and I'm trying to be emotionally competent and all but I just can't do it right now so this is what I'm gonna do. I grind my hips against his and I get the tiniest little gasp from his lips so I continue. Heero's is not vocal in bed. Never was – never has been but I know those little moans, those little gasps and I know that he wants me – wants this. I remove that tank top carefully and he tries not to wince as it goes over his shoulders and his back.

"'Ro?"

He sits up and I realise it probably hurts with that friction between the covers and that large gash down his back so I wrap myself around him. I'm taking control or as much as he lets me as I remove the rest of his clothes and then mine, the sweats fall to the floor and I almost feel like they make a clatter as they fall with that goddamn data disc in the pocket.

We don't have time. We never seem to, you know. I want to give him my full attention with lips and tongue and let him know how I feel but damnit, we have to be outta here so we're gonna have to make do with hard and fast.

There's some prep but there's still pain as he slides into me and I try to be gentle as I ride him as we're both injured and both not entirely functioning. Broken still, I guess. I try to not to touch his back but I can't help touching his wounds and he can't help touching mine since we're both covered in them. His lips meet mine and my eyes are closed and it's too damn much. I move fast and he thrusts up to meet me and I realise we might be doing more than fucking as even though its kinda fast and frantic, there's just something about the way he's holding onto me and the way I'm holding onto him. And then his hands are hard on my hips stopping me from moving and I'm so fucking close that I want to protest but he's stopping and he reaches out and touches my face and I move away some of his hair from his eyes and we're really  _looking_ at each other.

"Don't do that to me again," he said, a hand trailing down to my chest where I'm black and blue.

I don't need an explanation as I look into those eyes. Don't nearly die again. Don't leave him.

"I'm not dead. I'm here. I promised, you know."

His hand trails further and he strokes slowly and I move again and then it's every man for himself. He has a hand in my hair and another is jerking me off so I'm pretty much incoherent as I slam down in some kinda rhythm and his lips are on my neck and then we're both  _there_  and he's coming hard into me and I'm coming between us and we twitch and moan and hold onto each other tight.

There's that second of aftershock and this time I'm not running away from him – not pretending we're fuck buddies and then there's the moment of sticky realisation. Ugh.

"We need to clean up and get outta here."

His hand reached for my non-tattooed arm and he kisses the slight bump from the communication chip.

"And that."

He nodded and I moved using the ugly ass and big Preventer sweatshirt to get rid of some of the cum off me and throw it across to him. And like that we switch back into mission mode.

Showers. Get dressed in the clothes the Preventers have provided us with. Remove the chip – I let him use a small blade between the fake skin and my skin and let him bandage me up. I don't feel like bitching about it this time as my bodies a wreck anyway – a little more pain ain't doing anything. Then we're ready but know we've got the most interesting part of this to complete – knocking out Preventer agents and a certain Agent Chang.

I glanced back at the room and see where I've left the sweats and decide to grab the data disk, securing it in the back pocket of my jeans before following him out of the room. For some reason, I looked back kinda fondly on the crumpled bedding and the little break we had together in this mess of an undercover op and then I remembered what we've got to do. And what's gonna happen next.

Rogue agents. Ready to look like the bad guys. Huh, sometimes I really miss being the hero.

 


	17. Dirty Deeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Deranged - Coheed and Cambria

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Dirty Deeds**

The doc was the easiest. He'd not expected it and he'd gone to the floor without any protest. I felt down his body, looking in case he had weapons. I knew he was a doctor but this was the Preventers. I guessed our doc was trained to use a handgun at the very least – probably knew hand to hand combat. There was no gun on him but I felt a wallet in his back pocket.

It's been a long time since I've been a thief but it's not something you forget how to do, you know. I opened the wallet and saw what I expected. No ID. No cards but some cash. Yeah, they didn't want us to know who he was and they didn't want him to know who we were. I pocketed the cash without any remorse. I'd done a helluva lot worse as a kid and taken a lot more valuable and personal stuff. My eyes drifted towards the wedding ring – I'd have taken it as a kid. Hell, I'd not have even hesitated at taking it and no way would I have thought about the symbolic meaning and importance it had to people but hey, I've grown and I don't take it. See, not totally an asshole.

I do look through his medical shit. I am not at a hundred per cent. My body is not entirely healed and I am not like functioning at my usual high standard. I take a few vials – I take something for pain and I take an adrenalin shot and another shot of the anti-virus. I'm not sure why I take it but I'm taking it all and putting it into the bag. Maybe it's tradeable? Jesus. No idea.

After finishing searching doc, I push him onto his back and grab my bag and look for where Heero will be. His first task was to knock out Knowles. We'd not really got to know Knowles. Jenkiss had talked to us but Knowles spent most of his time in front of security screens in the dining room and I'd only been in there briefly. This house was fancy and far away from the District and the streets where I'd grown up on. It made sense, you know, we'd become known within the District and here we were as far away from that as possible. I vaguely wondered if someone lived here – if this was a Preventer's home but then it was like a show home. Just could be kept as a safe house.

Knowles was slumped forward and looked like he was asleep in front of the screens. I didn't ask Heero how he'd knocked him out but whereas doc had no weapons, Knowles did. A nice standard issue black Colt was sat next to the screens and the handcuffs. I didn't wanna know why he'd decided to steal the handcuffs as well. He'd pushed Knowles a little to the side and was leaning over the keyboard and I suddenly realised that he was altering the security feeds that Knowles was meant to be watching. On the screens, the images were flickering but you could see where the cameras were located. One on the roof – yeah, logical. One near the door. One in the kitchen… one in most places you'd expect but also one in the bedroom we'd been sharing. Oh. Shit.

"They got footage of… us?"

Heero grunted and nodded.

"Jesus."

"I'm deleting it."

I think this should be embarrassing or at least I should feel some kinda shame at the fact that the Preventers now basically had a sex tape of former pilot 01 and 02 but then I can't help the curiosity factor. It wasn't a kink or anything but, hell, if the tape was available, I'm kinda interested to watch it.

"How'd it look?"

I get a Glare O' Death.

"Oh, come on – you saw it's on the feeds, you gotta have seen a bit of it…"

"It's deleted."

"Did we look hot? Bet it looked hot…"

He just stands up and I see the whole security feed has been put back to yesterday and we're just sleeping in bed together. He offers me the gun and he takes the handcuffs. I really feel like I don't want to know what he's thinking as he's looking serious. Very serious. And my attempt to find out how we look having sex on camera is lost. Damn.

The last task is to find Jenkiss and 'Fei. Perimeter checks. Considering we were in a nice neighbourhood in the "good" area of the colony that was probably just walking around the building. I wondered how 'Fei was keeping Jenkiss outside for the duration – maybe explaining to him in  _great_ detail the art of war or something but we now had less than an hour to get as far away from this safe house. I wanted to be deep in the District when the debrief team appeared. I kinda wondered if maybe Wufei told Jenkiss what we'd been doing in our shared room or maybe Knowles did seeing that he'd have to watch us get hot and heavy. Maybe that was enough to keep them outside. Jenkiss was a nice enough guy but hell, I'd not really asked him his life story or opinions. You don't usually start with – hey, how'd you feel about two guys getting it on?

We looked at each other and nodded as we exited via the back door. Jenkiss was checking a camera located at the back of the yard and 'Fei was nowhere to be seen. I let Heero approach and let him wrap his arms around the guys neck, he struggled against his body, legs and arms flailing. I wanted to make a comment about it not being, you know, the nicest way to knock someone out but then, oh yeah, I got sucker punched in the gut and that wasn't fun so I let him suffocate the dude. He stops as he knows when to – I thought once, a long time ago, that he wouldn't know that – wouldn't know when he needs to stop otherwise he'd kill them but he does and Jenkiss slides out of his arms to the floor like a ragdoll. He bends down and retrieves another gun and searches the guy.

"We should take any cash," I said and he looks up at me puzzled. "We're gonna need it to survive."

I don't think he feels comfortable about it but he finds a wallet – I think I should go back and search Knowles but being that my brain was thinking of totally inappropriate things at the time, I'd forgotten. He empties it and pockets it. I realise then that Wufei is watching looking completely relaxed.

We now have a gun each and some cash – it's not enough but it'll do.

"You don't need to search me."

He hands over some cash – more than either doc or Jenkiss had and then reaches for his holster and removes a custom piece. It's definitely not standard issue and I feel bad for taking it but, hey, you never know. I might be able to return it one day. I shove it down the back of the waistband of my jeans and cover it up with my hoodie.

I look at him, ramrod straight and waiting for us to act. I gesture towards Heero but then get the feeling for some reason that I should do this – he's completely trusting us to do this and hell, Heero is stronger than me and more liable to hurt than I am.

"You ready for this?"

Wufei nodded. "Are you?"

"Guess so."

I don't go for the gut punch being that I hated Heero for doing that to me – granted it's a pretty effective method especially when delivered with all the subtlety of a ton of bricks al a Yuy. But I don't. I go straight for the jaw, snapping his head upwards with all the force I have and he crumples. Didn't actually expect it to work and Heero catches him from behind so that he doesn't end up injuring himself in the fall. Considering he's got a dislocated shoulder, I feel bad for the guy as Heero lays him down with unexpected gentleness. 'Fei's one of us, I guess.

"Let's blow this joint."

I get a grunt in response. Now that we have guns and cash, the next step is a vehicle. We go round the side of the safe house and through the wooden gate. All seems very suburban. I don't like it – the clothes we've been provided with are neutral but with hidden weapons and just our general shiftiness, I'm kinda concerned about the neighbourhood watch. Also makes it hard jacking a car. Plus I don't want to jack a car in a fancy suburban area – I want to get a piece of scrap metal that barely runs. The Preventer car is a black town car that says government issue. It almost makes me groan. Hiding out in a safe house is not safe if you have such an obvious mark parked outside. I raise my eyebrow towards the car. We can ditch it somewhere.

We'll take it. Then I realise that Heero's smarter than me. He's got the keys.

I slide into the passenger seat and let him drive. I don't care about playing some kinda pissing contest with him. He can drive. I've got other things on my mind.

"District?"

"Yeah but we gotta dump this car first. Torch it maybe."

He drives from the little dinky suburban block and it makes me shudder. This is the other side. Never really thought about it – this was the wealthy nice area where kids didn't starve. I'd guessed it existed, you know, but it was kinda in the same category as Santa or God for me. It seemed imaginary.

I'm running through things in my head as he drives and I'm thinking. The car is no good to nobody on L2 in one piece. In pieces, however, that's a totally different scenario. It can be stripped and used. Money made and all that. I'm thinking of scrap merchants and people I used to know. Maybe we can trade. Get some cash. Might work. Shame Hilde bailed L2 years ago. Smart chick. She was too clever to stay here and deal in scrap and try and be legitimate and all. Gone dirt side. Lost track.

I think for a second about where we need to go and I don't like it as we join traffic and I don't like not moving. My fingers make a rhythm on my knee. Heero seems to notice I'm nervous. We don't have time to do this. We just need to dump the car as it's too goddamn obvious.

"Plan?"

"Huh?"

"Plan. You know this place better than I do. You're more competent at undercover than I am. What are we doing?"

"Drive to near the spaceport, we'll abandon the car and torch it a little. Get the bus to the District. Then we work on getting some intel on Dallas."

"How?"

"We need weapons… we're gonna go see Antoine again."

He nodded and accepted the information. I raised one foot onto the dash and lean back a little and watch as we go through damn traffic. I feel like the Preventers are breathing down our necks and I hate this fucking car. It probably has tracking. Ah shit.

"Tracking?"

He smirked a little. "Jammer."

"You sure can do sneaky when you wanna."

"Learnt from best."

"Huh. Don't know whether to take it as a compliment from the great Heero Yuy."

"Take it however you want."

I pointed towards an exit. "Guess so."

The drive to near the spaceport is so slow that I want to just dump the car anywhere but I want it to look like we've run – got off colony. I know it won't work – they'd know if we tried to use our fake ID's and the spaceport is full of cameras and the ID recognition software would pick us up but it gives a short amount of time. Some agents will have to find the car and those agents won't be after us.

We get near enough and park on a street that's got a convenience store and I buy some cheap vodka and a lighter – the streets bad enough that we don't get too many looks as we're unloading our bags and I'm spilling the alcohol on the front seats. It doesn't make an impressive fire but does enough to make the car unusable and not be following our asses. It's far too early in the day and I feel so conspicuous and obvious but there's nothing to do but walk away from the vehicle and get a bus.

We're walking together and I look at the way he walks from the corner of my eye. He walks too straight, shoulders too rigid, its just all too… all too soldier boy.

"'Ro, can you slouch when you walk?"

He looks at me and I'm dead serious. Thought it was some witty comment. Hell no. Totally serious, buddy.

"You walk like a soldier. You stand up straight – you need to blend and you need to be not so… you."

"You want me to walk like you?"

"Yeah, well kinda, just not so, like, stiff. You're not a Preventer now or a soldier. Walk more casually."

He watches how I walk and I feel self-conscious suddenly about the way I hold myself. I slouch. I know I do. I shove my hands in pockets and I don't think I ever leant to look like a soldier. It's just natural – everything about me undercover is natural. I am naturally good at blending, at pretending, at bullshitting, at looking like the bad guy and doing the very worst things I can do and still sleep at night. Or sleep a little. And he ain't me. I should've done this alone – made him stay with 'Fei and not got him into this part as I know what we need to do and I don't feel entirely comfortable with it. He's not the bad guy. He's the one who had the fucking angel Gundam. He went undercover in military factions not in the world of drugs and sex and violence and degradation.

"You understand what we are going to do?" I asked.

For some reason I ask, he knows but I just want him to know that he has a chance to get out but then I know he won't leave my side. Not now. Maybe not ever. Our hands briefly touch and then we're getting on the bus, him managing to slouch a little and we're on our way back to the District and the bad side of L2.

We get off before we reach the District. I want to get some weapons from someone who might be a little more neutral and we stop in my old neighbourhood – the streets I'd been raised on. This area was less criminal but more ragged. Real old buildings that had been crumbling for years. It was near the District but far enough away. It had always been in bad shape. The District was bad, you know, but in better shape than a lot of the areas I'd known as a kid. Generally that was because the District was the centre of crime and that meant money flowed through it.

We walked down a few streets and I feel like I've walked back in time, you know. Everything seems the same – no progress at all. And I see Duke's. It's where it always was - the pawn shop next to the bookies and the shitty little coffee shop. Heero followed, a step behind me, wary like some kinda watch dog – it's like I'm running point and he's got my back. It works as we enter the store.

Duke's is as I remember and I feel like I'm eight again. Or maybe I was seven. Something like that. My age is kinda a little vague sometimes – having no defined date of birth. The shop is all bits of machines, car parts, wires, tech and then some glass cases with the stuff people pawn. We knew a guy called Ol' Jack when I ran with Solo who had a real valuable pocket watch who was some kinda of war vet and he lived in a burnt out house near where our crew hid. He got a government cheque every six weeks. But at the end of every fifth week he'd run his way through it – booze and chicks and whatever current drug craze, you know, usual shit. And he traded his pocket watch at week five. Every time. Traded it for that last week. Bought it back when the next cheque came in. Had it for a while until his cash ran out. Then traded it again. This constant cycle, you know, but old man Duke just kept it – didn't sell it on as he knew Ol' Jack would buy it back. Again and again. He'd buy it back.

Huh. Wondered what happened to Ol' Jack. Guessed he'd be dead by now. Not because he was old – he was probably about thirty when I was kid but because he'd done too many drugs, too much booze and too many L2 whores. That sorta lifestyle will catch up to you.

I see Heero taking everything in – from the valuables behind glass to the pieces of scrap. The bell had tinkled as we entered and there was someone behind the glass cabinets that held jewellery. A scruffy looking guy probably around our age, reading a comic book for crying out loud. I walked over with my usual bravado and then he looks up and I'm, like, damn.

"Jorge?"

"Duo?"

Jesus. Blast from the past and all.

"Wow, I ain't seen you since you tried to sell that shit from the church. We were, like, seven or somethin'."

"Yeah, somethin' like that."

"I remember pops beating you round the head and all. Telling you about not disrespecting the church and all."

I remember it too. Being blindsided by Duke was not something you forget as a kid. It was probably dumb but when I first got taken in by the Maxwell Church, I really didn't get that I shouldn't, you know, steal anymore so I took some candlestick holders or something and tried to sell them to Duke. We'd always sold to Duke when Solo was around. Gave a good price. Was sympathetic – though at the same time hated us as we tempted Jorge and he spent time around us and that was kinda bad. Jorge had a pops. And a place. This place. I hadn't totally expected Duke's to be still here and sure as hell didn't expect Duke's to be run by the same folks. Seemed like the world had gone back ten years.

"Your pops still around?"

"Nope, died two years back."

"Oh shit, man."

"Naw, cancer and all. Took few years to get him. Glad when he finally went, you know."

"Weird to think of him gone."

"Tell me about it. Keep thinking he'll come and tell me off and give me those punches round the back of my neck. Like he did when I was running with you and Solo. Tell me I ain't running the place right."

I feel, rather than see Heero, make a slight move at the word Solo. You can't say anything round that guy without him taking it in. Something about being a robotic soldier boy experiment. He doesn't say anything just watches at the exchange between us.

"Thought you got out and all - we heard you went to war. What the hell ya doing back, Duo? Still a shitstorm here, man."

"Yeah, guess I see that. Just looking for some old friends. You know, finding the old crew."

"Somethin' you ain't telling me."

Jorge looks at me and I realise that the problem with old friends – even those who knew you as a stealing, cheating little shit, maybe they see through you a little bit.

"We need some guns."

Heero spoke for the first time and Jorge gives him his full attention. Appraised him from head to foot – I want to kick him, seriously. He just stands so rigid. He looks military – he still looks every bit the solider underneath the tattered jeans and the check shirt. The talk about slouching had done nothing. Nothing at all.

"He ain't L2," Jorge said finally.

"No, he ain't but he's right. We're in the business for weapons."

Jorge looked uncomfortable and then walked over to the door to turn around the happy 'We're Open' sign to the 'Sorry we're closed' and he locked the door behind him.

"My pops would turn in his grave if I knew I was selling shit to you."

"Everyone gets cremated here."

"Yeah, that the saying, ain't it?"

"Guess so."

"Follow me."

We're led at the door at the back of the store. I'd never gone into the back of the store when Duke was alive. It was amazing he dealt with filthy street kids in the shop – most people had hated us and most people wouldn't have bought what they sold knowing the dubious origins of anything we had. Duke did. Duke did as most did on the edge of the District – pretended to be legitimate on the outside while hiding the good stuff. Solo always taught us better marks – taught us how to get the best stuff so when we sold, we sure as hell sold. Things had been okay for us until the Alliance came down hard. Before the virus killed off half of the kids. Before Roth and some midnight handshakes.

The back room is as illegal as the front is legitimate. Jorge used to tell us about this room to impress us. To be fair, being that we were street kids and spent our days stealing, running and hiding, Jorge had a hard time trying to impress us. We were not gonna think he was awesome if he did something for a dare as we lived our life as some kinda dare – jumping between buildings, hiding in rubble and living day to day. He had a pops – yeah, no mom, but his pops was more than enough parent. I'd had the crack across my face to prove it.

There are gun racks and drugs of every rainbow variety, cash that can only be counterfeit and fake docs of every kind. Wow. Now we sure woulda been impressed by this.

"You know I ain't gonna cut any deals just 'cos we were kids together."

"Wouldn't expect it, we got cash."

"You know I ain't a proper arms dealer – you need to go to Black Velvet to get anything else."

"We been there, we know."

And that would be why we need some artillery.

"You guys in trouble 'cos I don't know if I wanna get into shit. I keep my nose clean, you know, I don't affiliate."

"You know Dallas and his crew?"

"Shit. Everyone does."

"Anyone know where he hides now the hospital went poof?"

Heero visibly stiffens at the casual way I'm talking. I give him a glare and motion him to look at the selection of guns. Gets the message. Leave the talk to me.

"Naw, Dallas don't share that shit with nobody. Why you want Dallas? He don't run with the old crews."

I shrugged. "You don't wanna know. Pretend this never happened."

"What shit you in? I don't wanna get involved in anything. I gotta deal with these people, you know."

"Yeah and all we want to do is buy some guns so it's simple."

Jorge had gone pale and I honestly think that coming into Duke's was stupid. We were going to be marked with bulls eyes on our heads from the gangs for being pigs once it got out we were here and alive. And the Preventers would want us for being rogue. We had done everything quick but news travels fast and sure as hell our cards were marked in the District. Thus we need guns. Big ones. And now I'd got someone I used to know into this – he could end up with a bullet in his head for this. Aw hell.

"Work out what you want," he said, shrugging towards the racks on the wall.

I gestured towards Heero. "Work it out."

He doesn't actually question my order – maybe realises I need to look in charge at least for the time being and he's handling a rifle that looks OZ issue, the brown strapping still intact and I looked around at the drugs and drug paraphernalia. There's everything and I recognise the white powders and the syringes and everything he's providing. Then I see all those small pills. Probably Roth's poppers and highs and lows or whatever they are meant to do.

It's then I see the small baggies of pinky pills. I look over to Heero who is discussing ammo and prices – looking at an old shotgun that looks intimidating. He knows the score. Knows what we need to buy.

The pills are pink, tiny, heart shaped – look like candy. Really look like candy. All chalky and sweet. They were always classed as the worst kinda drug on L2 because they looked unbelievably harmless and kids OD'd on them all the time. Roth's shit. I'm sure of it but I'm reaching out for one small baggy and I'm putting it in my jean pocket without anyone figuring anything out. The street name was heart attacks – literally, because they increase your heart rate, pulse, adrenalin courses through your veins and you're invincible, on fire, but it's all so brief. And so people take too many. Far too many so they can dance and fight and fuck and feel high until they crash. And crash they do. Usually into cardiac arrest.

Popular little drugs and I'm taking them. Back to being a thief – everything's useful, you know. Take all you can, give nothing back and all. Trading, I guess.

"Shotgun and rifle, ammo and some handgun rounds – two thousand."

We don't have two thousand. We have what – maybe eight hundred. Should've robbed richer Preventers.

I remember the custom piece – Wufei's gun is a nice piece and probably worth more than an old OZ rifle and a shotgun and all the ammo we need.

"We'll trade for this."

Jorge ain't stupid, recognises a gun that is specially made and would be worth something – worth more than the old weapons we're trying to buy.

He makes a little sound that suggests he's thinking and I get irritated. I want to be out of here sooner rather than later – want to get to Black Velvet before the crowd is too big and before the Preventers are hammering down every door in the District. No time.

"The gun and five hundred."

I roll my eyes. "You know, the one thing I don't miss about L2 is how everyone wants to fucking bleed money outta me."

We pay because we have no time. We pay because we're going to meet with an arms dealer with attitude and a goon who's twice the size of both of us. We pay because I feel bad if Jorge and Duke's gets burnt to the ground or he gets shot in the head. Or a Preventer interrogation – all not fun.

I hand over the cash and we distribute guns and ammo between the bags we're carrying just in case one of us ends up in trouble. Old war time habits. No one person has all the guns and ammo because what if that person gets killed? You're up shit creak without a paddle. So share. Distribute resources. Same thing when I'd been a kid in Solo's crew – share the spoils of a day stealing so that if one of the gang gets caught by the Alliance the rest of us have some of it.

"Good doing business with you, man."

I shake hands with Jorge and it's wary. I look at him trying to figure out if he's got some links with Dallas and he'll make a call the moment we leave. Hell, he could call the Preventers and that would be just as bad.

The door tinkles as we leave and Jorge turns the sign around again. Heero asks one thing as I sling my bag over my shoulder, suddenly heavier with a shotgun and ammo and we walk towards the District.

"Solo?"

"Died of the virus."

He doesn't need anything else and guess it finally makes sense to him. I was never gonna back down from this as it was personal. I could tell him the entire tale but didn't need to. That was enough.

 


	18. We're One and the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Deranged - Coheed and Cambria (still!)

**Chapter Eighteen**

**We're One and the Same**

There's a certain drama to an act of violence. They call it the aesthetics of violence. There's a certain weird beauty to violence sometimes – I'd seen it up close, so many explosions that do look spectacular because you can disengage from the moment – it's like fireworks. Stars. Brightness and light. This kind of violence is not pretty and it ain't nice but there is a show to it. It's like a drama – an act.

The shotgun is a totally impractical weapon. The weapon doesn't take enough rounds for it to be effective in an all-out fire fight. It needs to be reloaded too frequently and also it's a pretty messy and grim way of wounding someone. It's for show. I know a lot about the show when it comes to fighting. Deathscythe was all about show – come on, why the hell make a Gundam that looks like the Grim Reaper without it being a little about drama? Piloting Deathscythe was all about the big reveal – use the Hyperjammers and then, boom, appear and make everyone who sees it meet their maker. This is my show though Heero knows something about making violence dramatic but he follows my lead.

The first few rounds of bullets go into the ceiling and the chaos begins. I'm going with this, this  _plan,_ and I'm kinda using the word loosely, as the worst and probably stupidest thing I've ever done. And I've dragged Heero into it willingly. Damn. But we don't have time and we're rogue so we might as well do something that's not entirely kosher – regulations, protocol and the whole goddamn rule books gone so we'll go on instincts.

There's screams. I expected it. You don't go walking into a strip club in the middle of the day even in the District on L2 and start firing and not get some reactions. We don't want the girls – hell we don't want the slimy customers so I try to say this in a way that could be considered reassuring as Heero fires a few staccato rounds into the ceiling for dramatic emphasis. The music has gone off so least I don't have to tear out my throat shouting too loud – it's still all too raw.

"We don't wanna hurt any of you. We just want Antoine."

The clients don't need telling twice. I guess they don't want to be seen with their pants down, so to speak, in this situation and plus, their entertainment are doing what sensible girls on L2 do. Run. They don't bother about how little their wearing – after all, this is the District and the days when they weather cycle gets cranked up to something summer like, the girls wear next to nothing anyway. Nobodies gonna blink. We let them pass – the guy who must be generously called a DJ takes a second to decide if he wants to leave or stand up to us. I raise the gun to a few inches above his head and fire. He don't need any more of warning shot – the commotions lasted all of a minute and that's what it takes for the door of the office to open.

The only other person left in the bar and club area is Niko and she tries to decide whether to make a run for the door but we planned on leverage – we planned on having someone to use against Antoine as he could potentially use us against the other so when she made a run for it I grabbed her.

"Hold on, sweetheart, not you."

She resisted for a second but I've dropped the shotgun and instead had a knife at her throat – I may have lost the last blade to Dallas and his crew but I'd got something to replace it – knives were easy to come by in the District and we'd lost the rest of our cash in a convenience store that sold blades and small explosives behind the counter. This is probably the nastiest, scummiest thing I've ever done as she's freaking terrified and I really have become the bad guy. Low of lows. I'm now attacking chicks for kicks or something.

Antoine's got Gus but I have Heero. The fancy piece that we saw on our first meeting is pointed at my head and Gus' weapon is at Heero's head. Gus doesn't seem as confident with a weapon as he would be with fists but we're now at the stalemate situation, I guess. Technically, we're outgunned because I've got Niko and I've dropped the spent shotgun but we're not evenly matched. Two pissed off ex-Gundam pilots? I think we can take out Antoine and Gus but that ain't the point.

"We wanna talk, Antoine."

"You wanna talk and you come in here like this?"

"Yeah, guessed we ain't gonna get the welcome mat and all."

"No, you ain't."

"Maybe we make this more civilised."

"Think you gonna get bourbon and cookies after coming into my place like this?"

"Naw, but tell us you wouldn't blow our brains out if we didn't come in like this?"

Antoine laughed and Niko tried to move in my arms. All she'll achieve is cutting herself – I've got the blade tight to her throat, my arm around her exposed stomach and she needs to just calm the fuck down. I have no intention of getting her blood on my hands. She can't help who she works for. It's a job.

"Darling, stop wriggling if you wanna live," I said, low.

"Fuck you."

She spits. She does what I do when I'm restrained – must be something about being raised on this godforsaken colony. We all want to put up the front and be the badass. Always want to be smart and all about the street smarts – not they'd ever really done me much good – just opened me up to a world of hurt. I'd never become an undercover operative in the Preventers if I'd not come from the streets and I wouldn't be like I was now. Desperate.

"We want intel on Dallas."

"And you think I have it?" Antoine said, all cold eyes.

"I know you do."

"Dallas thought he'd killed you."

"Yeah, well, no one can kill death, you know."

"Yeah, we heard. Gundam pilot 02. Kinda pulled a number on us all for a while."

"Part of my charm."

I get another laugh – least my sarcasm and comedy styling's seem to work with the criminal element. I know he's mocking me, thinks we're not going to act and this is all bravado and show. Thinks we're too much the good guys to do anything.

"Yeah, we ain't got time for pigs and you can't do anything to me to get me to talk. You got rules," he said, mocking me, mocking both of us.

Pigs. I'd expected the insult but I can only smirk. Heero hasn't moved, his gun is still perfectly aimed and his back straight, perfect stance and all.

"We got kicked outta the Preventers – no rules, no protocols."

That at least shocks Antoine. He'll think it's bullshit. I would in his situation. Technically, I suppose we are still Preventers, just dirty ones right now but I'm not gonna share.

"Still don't think you got it in you, hero and all."

"I never really was the hero."

Never really felt heroic, always felt like I was just doing my thing outta of some kind of duty and revenge towards the dead. I felt a duty towards the colonies but didn't really feel heroic. Felt more like the bit player – Heero was all self-sacrificing and heroic, not me. Probably why I could do this. Probably why I've been able to spend all these years with criminals and feel like maybe this was actually was where I belonged. Dallas made me think I did – too similar to me, too alike. Sure was a depressing thought.

Antoine made this small gesture that formed some kinda signal to Gus and that's all it needs for this situation to go from talking to chaos. Gus makes a move that suggests he's about to fire and that's all that's needed from Heero. He doesn't use the OZ rifle, that was for the drama but instead, he uses the standard issue Preventer Colt and shoots quickly at the kneecaps. I'm thinking one thing – ouch. Gus' huge body crumples to the floor and he's making a moaning sound. Heero reacts and kicks away the weapon so far that it becomes impossible to reach and then points the weapon squarely at Antoine.

"Talk," Heero said.

"You two ain't gonna get me to say shit about Dallas."

Gus is moaning on the floor – yeah, it's painful, but damn he's a big dude. Surely he can take it.

"Really? I think we can be persuasive."

"Kill Niko, kill Gus, don't give a shit."

Niko starts crying and I look straight into Antoine's face and know she isn't working for leverage. He's that cold. I push her away from me and she falls to her knees, crawling away with a little nick in her neck – a small trail of blood flowing. It ain't bad. And I'm sure we've done less damage than a gang would do but I'm not entirely comfortable as I grab my own handgun to face Antoine.

"What about your own neck?"

"You ain't gonna shoot me."

I fire. It's a shot to wound not a shot to kill – I go for his right shoulder and the gun drops to the floor as he slumps to his knees holding onto the wound out of instinct. Shot wounds hurt. Hell, I know that and Heero knows that but Antoine probably does too. You don't become an arms dealer on L2 and live a life free of injury. He reached out for his own gun but my foot is there before he can reach out and I crush his hand under my boot. Not too hard but hard enough for him to yelp a little in pain. It makes me worry about his pain thresholds.

I gestured towards Heero. The room is now us on our feet, Gus rolling around melodramatically, Antoine on his knees and Niko leaned against the bar, huddled, holding her knees close to her chest as she seemed to be shivering and I guessed it wasn't about the lack of clothing. The shiny Preventer issue cuffs caught my eye and our eyes meet long enough to establish where we're gonna put Antoine. It's probably an irony thing – or maybe not irony, guess I don't understand what true irony is anyway, when the strip club owner ends up cuffed to a pole. Black Velvet might be a nice place to work. The girls might be treated in the nicest possible way and all but I doubt it. I'm cynical at heart. Think I always will be.

We both get blood on us moving him and restraining him but there's two of us and one of him. We win.

"I kinda worried you had kinky plans for the cuffs, 'Ro."

I get grunt for my attempt at humour as he checks the cuffs are secure. Antoine is on his knees, slumped forward, the bloods running freely from his shoulder and he'll probably go into shock from the blood loss.

I kneel down to be at his level and Heero stands behind him, a gun still firmly pointed at his head.

"Tell me where Dallas went."

I get spat at. Again. For fucks sake. Its bloody this time and I wipe it off my face with all the contempt he deserves.

"You tell us and we call you emergency medical attention."

He's breathing heavily and each word is hard for him. "I won't give you shit."

"Heero, fingers."

I didn't have a conversation with him regarding what torture techniques he'd been taught or what torture techniques he'd endured. I knew that he'd been taught how to withstand revealing information and to ignore the pain from torture but doling it out? Not so sure. His training and the whole twisted experimentation thing was not something I knew enough about and though it was probably something we'd have a heart to heart about in another life time, I just guessed he'd know how to bend back someone's fingers and break them.

He goes for the hand I've already crushed a little, kneeling behind him where the hands are secured in the cuffs. Antoine screams. Actually screams and I suddenly feel really bad about what we're doing. I'd been tortured. And it is not something I like to think about. Barge still haunted my nightmares and the particularly sadistic soldiers seemed to take a starring role. There's another snapping sound and I shake my head and meet blue eyes. He rises back to his feet and points the gun back at Antoine's head. Least we seem to have some control which is less than the OZ soldiers had.

"Let me repeat. Where is Dallas?"

This time his breathing is more laboured. "… warehouse…"

"A warehouse. Where is warehouse?"

I grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at me. He doesn't want to look at me and I can tell that he's starting to lose consciousness. I expect some more spitting as I'm kinda getting used to it but he just laughs me.

"Heard a rumour. Warehouse in the old shipping quarter… old Alliance one… got new security cameras… reckon it's where they'd hole up."

"That's all you've got. Thought you were shit hot, Antoine."

He coughed and seemed to be starting to shiver. Shock. Guess it'll have to do as we're getting nothing else outta the dude. He's done.

"Let's get outta here."

"Yeah."

We're both conscious that someone could've reported us – hell, even in the District our behaviour is pretty bad. We'd acted totally like criminals. I have blood on the hoodie the Preventers have given me and feel like I need to cleanse myself or something. I don't feel good.

We take the back exit through the office and I look back at Niko who's still looking terrified.

"Honey, call for an ambulance, your boss needs it."

We're outside and it feels like we've in Black Velvet for hours though it's been like twenty minutes. I don't expect it to be still midday. The day cycle's still in full swing. Seems out of step with what we've just done. Dark criminal shit needs to be done at night, the old cliché.

"Do you trust him?" Heero asked.

"No, but it's all we've got."

There's no argument there. We go to the silver run down vehicle that could be generously called a car – it's more rust than car. We'd jacked it and stored our bags and ammo prior to the run on Black Velvet but we weren't gonna use it. The shipping quarter was near enough to the District to be walkable plus I thought a vehicle made us more obvious than on foot.

The shipping quarter had been the main employer in this area when L2 was at least a semi-successful colony. When I was a kid, the Alliance had taken over the shipping quarter to store weapons – probably pieces of mobile suits and guns. Now I guessed it wasn't used at all. It didn't look in good shape when we arrived. The warehouses all looked abandoned, graffiti and broken windows and all. There's only one that does stand out a little.

It is as scummy as expected among a bunch of scummy warehouses. The only sign of it being used is the fact that the fence is repaired, the chains weak points have been rewired with care and there are no visible holes from where we're stood. We take to observing behind a burnt out wreck of a car and take turns looking closely to figure out the range of the cameras.

The cameras are not too expensive – not too obvious. If it was the top of the range security system then it would only encourage the criminal element in the District. It worked like a red rag to a bull rather than a deterrent. Gotta love this place. So this was  _just_ good enough to show some cash had been flashed but without too much value being placed on the interior. Just the right amount of protection.

It meant that the cameras were stationery. Which was easier.

"We can't use the jammer," Heero said.

"No, it might attract attention if someone's viewing the live feeds but the cameras are locked so we just need to figure out a route to the building. Then we stick close to it and we avoid detection."

"No guards."

Yeah, there were no guards. Made me feel a little weird. The whole time I'd spent at the hospital, there had been a clear schedule and the kids went with it. There was always the sniper – now no sniper and no one just sat out with a gun. It looked too easy. It looked like a trap. Fuck it. His voice broke into my thoughts.

"Could be a trap."

I looked up at Heero who was pretty expressionless. Yeah, he was thinking the same things as me. If it was a trap, it would be stupid for us to get caught in one again. Also the way Antoine had given up the information so easily. Just seemed too convenient. I didn't like it.

"We bail if it is." My eyes try to take in as much as I can and work out the route where the cameras sight don't pick up. "Could be as Roth's involved now. You know, wants the kids outta sight. Something like that."

Heero grunted and reaches for the hand gun, checking the clip as though he expects trouble. My own idea sounds unconvincing in my own head. We don't have time. Might as well do some recon at the very least and then bail.

"We get out at the first sign of trouble. Rendezvous at Duke's," I said.

"Yeah."

"How do you wanna approach?"

"Your mission, your plan."

"I think you're putting way too much faith in my plans, babe."

I get that slight smile thing. "We're not dead or arrested yet."

"Yeah, always the bright side."

I looked more closely at the camera system. There were a couple of routes and it would be better we split to be less obvious. I drop the bag off my shoulder and check my own weapon supply. I check my own handgun as I have the feeling I might be using it before too long. It gets secured down the back of the waistband of my jeans and I sling the bag over my shoulder.

"You take the north side and approach from the cameras blind spot. Try and get into the building from one of the lower windows. I'll come from this side. Meet inside."

I've already got my route in my head and the area of the fence I'll climb. My skin still prickles as I feel like this is a trap and this is a bad idea. We revert to not saying anything as he ducks slightly figuring out his own approach and leaves me behind the wreck of a car. No kiss. No words. Probably for the best, you know.

The approach I take means I climb up and over the fence with an agility I'd forgotten I had. Kinda makes me miss the old days of scrambling across roofs and rubble and wreckage. Nostalgia for my hell of childhood is brief as I land on the other side and see the fence wobbles a little with the force that my body put on it. I look over to the warehouse. There is no sign of life inside. The windows are all in tact though which seems like a miracle in itself. Maybe they've been repaired? I look up at the camera and make my run for it. This would probably make more sense at night but hell, no time and if I get caught, if  _we_ get caught then it might as well happen now.

The run only takes thirty seconds but my heart is hammering and my breathing is shallow. Partly because I'm a feeling like I'm gonna get bullets raining down on me from above but also the remains of the fucking virus. I take deep breaths and then creep around the building slowly and think about how easy Heero will be finding this. He'll be in the building already. Super soldier and all.

There's a window that's low enough that I can see through and it seems to be an office. It'll work. I remove my hoodie, the grey material has already got some of Antoine's blood on it so it's not really wearable anyway so I use it to save my hand as I smash out the glass with my fist. This time it's less difficult and the materials thicker so that, hey, no wounds! I push the glass in and wait for a second before pulling my weight up and through. I'll get a few nicks from the glass but after everything my bodies been through, I think a few scratches will make no difference.

There's no one here and I wonder where Heero's got in. I listen and hear no signs of gunfire or violence so I guess that he's probably fine.

The room is a small square with one door with a glass panel in it. It says Manager's Office. Seems like it's a part of a long forgotten version of L2 where the shipping quarter was the main employers and places like this had managers. Seemed kinda quaint.

I would've just moved along had it not been for the computer system on the wall opposite the door. The computer system is new, multiple screens and state of the art. And expensive. There are surveillance feeds on screens showing the grounds but nothing in the building. Even if we'd been picked up on the feeds there was no one sat watching which seemed kinda odd. Maybe they were stretched thin. Maybe they weren't here.

I leaned over the keyboard and the main screen came to life. The system was locked and password protected, I typed some code to establish what kinda of security system was being used. Heero is so not the only one who can hack – granted, I'm nowhere near as good but he admits I'm better at undercover work so we'll go for a tie. My fingers fly over the keyboard until a familiar logo appeared. This wasn't a warehouse belonging to Roth or Dallas… it was…

"Raise your hands slowly and turn around."

I wanted to laugh – not a humorous thing but that kinda dark chuckle thing I did. Life was full of major irony and coincidences – hell, not coincidences but always the worst possible scenario for yours truly always seems to happen. This was one of them. He knew it was me. There are so not that many nineteen year old men who work the braid look even if it is shorter than its war time length. And I look every inch the criminal I'm pretending to be – all tatted up and armed to the teeth. Plus out of all of us, we didn't know each other well – had spent two wars barely meeting and after that, I'd been blatantly mean to him the last time we'd spoke. Oh yeah, I was also the reason his sweetie was in trouble and was a general dick to him. So yeah, if I could play who I wouldn't want to see me looking suspicious and criminal – I'd pick him. No question.

"What about the bag, buddy?"

"Lower the bag to the ground carefully."

I decided to follow the order. The bag slides off my shoulder and goes to the ground. I raise my hands in surrender and turn to look straight into green eyes. He looks older. All dressed up in a well- fitting suit – totally designer or something. Suits him and all. Always worked the suit look – Quatre probably drilled it into him but he does look good in it. The gun is pointed straight at me and my response is to smirk and go for the smart-ass approach.

"Hey, Trowa. Long time no see."

 


	19. Do You Know Me, My Brother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Retreat - Hell is for Heroes

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Do You know Me, My Brother?**

The words in my defence kinda die on my lips. I'm not a criminal? This is not breaking and entering? I'm not armed and with a bag filled up with ammo? Maybe the first thing would be that I'm not dead considering that was the popular belief but that was a redundant statement. I was obviously not dead being that I'm stood in front of him so I just take a second to see what the hell he's gonna do.

I'm still armed. I would unarm me first but he hasn't moved. It's like he's a goddamn statue. All good posture and straight backed. Must be all that circus shit. Or maybe the years standing beside the earth sphere's richest man. Whatever. I guess he's thinking. Calculating. Working things out. His eyes drift to my raised arms and his eyes narrow at the tattoos. I'm guessing the idea of me being some deadbeat criminal becomes more believable with them decorating my arm – old clichés and all. Plus I have just trespassed. Oh yeah, there is some blood on my hands – literally. Antoine's.

Since I'm not particularly awesome at silence and I have never known how to react around Trowa being that I know, never really  _got_ him at all, I just blurt out the next statement.

"I'm an undercover Preventer."

It's not a lie. I am still a Preventer just an unsanctioned one with the blessing of Wufei. So it's like I'm sanctioned to be unsanctioned.

"Ask Wufei."

I get a slight hint of reaction. I knew that Trowa had been in touch with Wufei at the beginning of this entire stupid goddamn operation. It was  _his_ intel about Quatre's death threats that had led us to this little friendly meeting. His face barely moves but it does move. Jesus. Trowa and Heero should play poker. They could be world champs at bluffing and not giving anything way. Think they could even take down Howard and half the Sweepers and that is a tricky thing. The gun doesn't waver but I can tell he's figuring stuff out.

"I went into deep cover in the Preventers three years. I'm working the death threats on Quatre. We were given intel that the gang were using this warehouse and we came to check it out, didn't figure it would be you guys, you know?"

He says one word that he gets outta my rambling statement.

"We?"

I don't get chance to respond as there's a silent approach from the corridor behind Trowa and a click of another handgun.

"Duo's telling the truth. He's an undercover Preventer like I am."

Heero's voice is steady and totally controlled even though he is pointing a gun at a friend and ally in some kind of overly protective shit. I think about going for my own weapon which is easily accessible and joining in with the whole testosterone and phallic imagery of pointing guns at each other.

"Heero," Trowa says quietly and he doesn't flinch at the weapon pointed at his own head and maintains his weapon in the direction of my face – straight between the eyes.

"Maybe lowering the guns would be a good idea? You know, this lil reunions gonna go better if we all have our heads."

"I'll lower mine when Trowa lowers his."

I want to laugh but I seem to the only one who finds this hilarious. You know, people who are not former Gundam pilots might see a friend they haven't seen for years and be like, hey, awesome to see you, and all. The default option might not be to draw a weapon. But then I look like I was up to no good – trying to hack into a security system, sneaking through a window I'd just broken and had a handgun tucked into the back of my jeans. I looked like I was bad news. And when you haven't seen someone for three years, yeah, a little caution is probably required. But maybe not one with so much hostility.

The stubborn battle of wills seems to be on going. My arms are starting to fucking ache. I'm being all good boy and pretending to be surrendering and they are not moving. Then there's a small acknowledged movement from Trowa and he starts to lower his weapon and Heero follows suit at the same snails pace. I don't move my arms. Not yet.

"I need your weapons." He looks first to Heero who reluctantly passed over the handgun and then the bag. He folds his arms across his chest and leans in the doorway as Trowa approaches me. I slowly reach behind me for my weapon as I don't really want to be felt up by him – not that he isn't a good looking guy or anything but I was kinda ready to knock his lights out, old ally or not.

"Knife."

Heero's eyes catch mine and I smirk and reach for my knife in my pocket before handing it over. Heero knows I don't like being without a blade. Can deal without a gun but I feel naked without a knife. I don't have the brute strength of Heero so I need something reassuring. I decide not to be asshole and he's now weighed down with the amount of weaponry.

"What the hell is this place?"

"The L2 base of Winner Corp."

"You're kidding me , right? This is, like, a total shit hole."

"This is ground level. You need to see the basement." There's the tiniest bit of humour there – I'm now imagining marble and chandeliers. Usual Winner opulence. "Follow me."

I gesture him to lead the way and Heero hangs back and lets him pass so that we walk side by side. I notice that Trowa's talking very quietly into a communicator but pick up enough of it to hear that he is telling the security team to get Quatre and warning them about visitors. Seemed like this was gonna be a proper reunion. Aw fuck. I end up awkwardly rubbing my hands on my jeans expecting to get rid of the blood before seeing Quatre for the first time in three years.

We arrive at an elevator that has an out of order sign on one side of the door and a button that looks totally disabled. It seems that the level of technology to activate the elevator is more advanced as the doors spring open at a slight wave of a keycard – fancy. Feels like a long time since I've been around so much tech. All the undercover ops leave me in the company of the scum of the earth – somewhere without a leaky roof is pretty awesome and I don't regularly get to play with tech anymore. Kinda miss it.

Trowa gestures for us to go first and we do. The elevator is so shiny it nearly hurts my eyes and the doors swishes with a close and Trowa uses one of the two buttons. B. There's G and B. Not a lot to the place, I guess. Up or down. The elevator doesn't start immediately and I'm kinda amazed that Heero is already stood, arms folded across his chest and head bowed slightly in a more relaxed pose than I thought possible in the middle of a mission. Yeah, I knew he and Trowa had stayed in touch so that he had more faith that we were safe but still, I wasn't letting my defences down straight away.

"Barton."

That's when I guess what we were waiting for. Voice recognition. Think it's a kinda amateur alarm system as I could now work out a way to infiltrate. Steal keycard. Get recording of voice. Enter. But then, this was probably more complicated than your average L2 thief could manage and infiltration kinda was my speciality so I don't criticise as we move downwards quickly.

Trowa doesn't say anything else, just shifts the bags of weapons on his shoulders and occasionally glances in both of our directions. Correction. Heero he basically ignores – he's focused on me. Suspicious much? Or does he really just damn dislike me? Right now, the feelings mutual buddy.

The elevator pings open and Heero looks up finally and we walk out onto a walkway suspended above a large room that has been turned into some kinda command centre. I can see plans and laptops over a series of tables. I can see scale models of buildings. The room could probably fit at least three Gundams in but is being used for models of hospitals and schools and university campuses. Seems really out of steps, you know. Weird. And then it oddly reminds me of Dallas' plans in the doctors consulting room – plans that were the opposite of these – these were all the intention to build stuff and Dallas' were all the intention to take stuff down.

There are rooms going off the walkway – they look like offices but some seem to have been converted into living quarters. It doesn't look really Winner-esque – it's like an underground bunker. Comfortable enough but not really fancy living and all. Reminds me of Peacemillion and the Sweeper ships I'd spent my time on as a kid and the amount of people working give it that impression of being a lived in place. I kinda like it. Not as intimidating as walking head first into a usual Winner residence but then I suppose they were in hiding. Living among the riff raff kinda was awesome cover. I'd expect him to be at the fancy hotels. So would anyone trying to kill him. Not here.

Not leaving an office to the side and taking a second to look at Trowa - a puzzled look crossing his face at the duffle bags before turning baby blue eyes to us. Apparently he'd been given no warning. Which I think on Trowa's part is kinda cruel.

"Nice digs, Quatre, seems like you've come down a little in the world since the last time we met, huh?"

He blinks and takes a second to register us. I look at him – he's grown taller and doesn't look as try hard without a suit – he's in well fitted and tailored jeans but hey, jeans, nonetheless and a pale blue shirt. The casual thing suits him better than the whole suits, I always got the impression on vidscreens he looked too young in them and was wearing daddies cast offs. Trowa had the height for them and plus he always looked a little older than us anyway, Quatre not so much. Too blonde or something.

It amazes me that it only takes those few seconds for him to compose himself – guess that's what comes from all that fine breeding and all, and he's shaking hands with Heero in a very, well, formal way and then he walks over to me and I realise we've both grown in height a little so that we're pretty much eye level – he's a touch taller but hey, he probably has better genetics than me plus a far superior childhood so I'm not gonna bitch.

It's an awkward one arm hug thing we do – I'm guessing this would be a lot more expressive if he was more sure that I wasn't some badass criminal and if I wasn't awkward about the fact I have blood on my hands and his shirt is pale. They know Heero is golden being that he'd been in touch in last few years but I'm kinda an unknown. Trowa's totally trusting the fact that I said I'm an undercover Preventer and Heero's word. Suppose its heart warming. Maybe going through a war together creates bonds or something.

We part and I have my hand behind my head, scratching the back of my neck beneath the base of my braid and his eyes scan the tatts as well. I'm gonna make a comment on Winner Corp becoming more accepting of people with tattoos and who look alternative but he gives me this small smile.

"We thought you were dead."

"I went into deep undercover work. You guys had to think I was outta reach, you know."

There's an uncomfortable silence. There's three years and probably a lot of anger and hurt here – yeah, going undercover was quite a selfish decision in its own way. I decided I didn't want to officially die – I could've had 'Fei arrange an explosion. Could've had him do something that they didn't think, didn't wonder and didn't try and find me.

The whole awkwardness of the situation and the fact that neither me or Quatre are saying anything must've freaked out Trowa as he just decides to leave the situation. Kinda what I'd like to do. Actually felt more comfortable in the District than here. More at home. Less like an asshole. Or still an asshole but not one who had caused a great deal of hurt to people that he cared about.

"I'm going to reset the perimeter trips."

"I'll join you," Heero said.

Trowa just nods in acknowledgement and it's like they're weird non-talking best buds again. So goddamn easy but then there really wasn't any bad blood between them. I'd been, bluntly, a prick to Quatre and I should apologise but then is three years too long to just say sorry? Fuck knows. I'm not well versed in people staying or reappearing into my life – they usually die, pure and simple, and that's easier to deal with. They're gone. Get over it. Pick myself up, brush myself off and survive. Yeah, never had to play nice and make up until recently. Suppose me and Heero had done pretty well but then we punched each other and fucked. Which obviously I couldn't do with Quatre being that, well, that would be like screwing a brother or something and plus we're both attached.

Heero squeezes my wrist briefly before going back towards the elevator and Trowa gives him back his gun and his bag. I don't get my weapons back. I feel like pouting but instead lean a little back on the railing trying to look casual.

The touch is brief between me and Heero but I realise that Quatre's eyes drift to where our hands have just touched – considering I've just walked back into his life after all this time, he's reading me like a goddamn book again. Seeing that touch between us makes him raise a slight eyebrow and I shrugged my shoulders.

"We're working shit out."

"Good," he said and then didn't seem to know how to continue.

I didn't know either. As the most chatty of the five of us and the most, well, sociable and least monosyllabic we should just start talking but I'm shit out of anything and this seems totally wrong – to be here, in an underground bunker on L2 when me and Heero have just tortured a guy, it just all makes me feel a little more self-conscious.

"Should I start at the beginning or something?"

He glances over my shoulders and I notice that we are being watched very closely by what must be his security team and just generally his staff. There seems to be very little work going on down below as there's a level of interest and suspicion at the new arrivals. Namely me.

"We'll talk in my office – no spectators."

I look behind at the staff and plans below and then follow him into the room he'd just come out of. The room is both office and private quarters. It's cozy. It's obvious that Quat and Tro are sharing the space – the bed is two small uncomfortable military grade bunks pushed together, the covers made with the precision. I idly wondered whether it was the merc or the millionaire who did that. A desk has been moved to near the centre of the room, a laptop and papers litter the surface and it's all so… war time like. Really does remind me of Peacemillion. The only time the five of us got to be a team. Gundam team go forth or something cheesy. Make it sound like an old cartoon.

"Nice."

"I suppose you'd call this roughing it for me?"

There's a slight hint of bitterness there – a little more steel underneath his words than I remember Quatre having but the past three years had not been roses and candy, I guess. Responsibilities, death threats and shit. Gotta become harder – gotta not be the boys we used to be. I acknowledged long ago that the boy I'd been disappeared – gone after too many shit holes and criminals and draining jobs.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For which part?"

"All the parts… the pushing you all away, being a drunken jerk and then disappearing. I kinda thought you'd give up on me, you know… think I was the loser ex-pilot who got beaten up in a bar fight and rotted in some ditch somewhere. Thought you'd get over it."

I'm not looking at him purposefully. I look at the papers and see that there's print out from the news feeds about the hospital explosion. It makes me swallow as I see names of the dead Preventer agents listed and I then decide I can't look at that so actually look up at Quatre.

"I thought you weren't dead for so long. Knew it somewhere deep down that you weren't but… I started to give up."

"Sorry."

"You couldn't give us any clue?"

"Meant to be super top secret, you know. Seems Heero didn't get that memo, though, keeping in touch with Tro and all."

He sighed deeply, put his hand through his blonde hair. "We tried to find you for years. I paid private detectives. Hackers. Anybody."

"Well, should've just asked Wufei. He's my handler and boss of this dinky little operation."

That must hurt a little, I guess, as he'd been keeping a whole load of big secrets from us all. Me and Heero not knowing we were both working for him. Quat and Tro not knowing that we were both undercover. Not letting them know I was alive, at least, and you know, okay and shit. His eyes give something away but we don't move to get comfortable. Doesn't offer tea. Not that I want to play and pretend civility. Always made me uncomfortable anyway. Remembered visiting him during the war when he first returned to the old family company in space and wanting to be out of the fancy digs.

"The L2 Project… came with a lot of trouble."

Evasive tactics. I'm always so good at them. Change the subject and let's not talk about how I feel. I've apologised which I'm feeling is enough right now so I'll leave it at that. Don't want to get all mushy in what was still an undercover operation – we weren't off the clock. Just a diversion. Suppose when I got a moment with Heero we could work out our next move – think of someone else to threaten and torture or something to get near to Dallas and Roth. Yeah, head still in the game, Duo. It may be a nice little reunion but we're still working and still rogue agents. Our staying in the Winner Corp underground bunker was not gonna last and I was fine with that.

"In a weird way, this has become a vacation. I'm unavailable to everyone from my Personal Assistant to the Board of Directors. I can work on the L2 Project undisturbed. I see Trowa for more than the forty five minutes in the gym at six am. It got to the point where I forgot that we used to have sex… that he wasn't just my bodyguard."

I admit, though I am very aware that Quatre and Trowa were sexually active during the wars and spent some "special" quality time together aboard Peacemillion after Tro's memories returned, that I have never, remotely ever thought of them having sex. I think it shorted my brain out. I suppose he was used to my very blunt ways of talking about this – I'd basically just said to him after Heero's self-destruction that "I was fucking 01" – which, is a quote and I felt one that accurately defined that relationship at the time but talking about him and Tro? Weird. Does not compute or something. I decide to ignore the sex comment and go with the rest of his words.

"Sounds like I was kinda harsh on you," I said, quietly.

I didn't think for one second at the time about the shit he got for being the only male Winner child – didn't think about the pressure and expectations and his goddamn job. Plus, he'd lost his father pretty damn nastily during the war – had a really difficult and complicated and, well, guilt-ridden relationship with Trowa and I never really flipped the coin over to see his side. I knew I felt fucked up, knew that at sixteen wasn't dealing with peace too well and missed Heero like hell. Totally selfish – everything's about Duo or something. Heero had already pointed out that everything wasn't about me but yeah, I've figured my shit isn't that important. Wow. This must be maturity.

"You needed time. I tried to pressure you into acting too quickly. I should apologise for that."

"You don't need to apologise for trying to give a dumbass money, Quatre. Really, this whole thing seems like totally my fault."

There's a pause and the mood seems ever so slightly lighter but then I look around at all these plans. The hospitals, the community centres and the schools.

"Was this all…" I stumble over my words. Damnit. "Was this all to, like, reach out to me?"

I don't meet his eyes. Yeah, he ain't that kid I knew anymore but I think this conversation has strayed too far into emotional stuff for me. Yeah, older Quatre was less likely to get all emotional but still, avoiding eye contact seemed safest.

"It started that way," he said, walking over to the white board with numbers. Costs. Wow. Large costs. "Then I just figured this colony never really got the shot the others did… then it just became about helping the people."

"Very… charitable."

"Not too much… there's money to be made here, too. Not everything is charity."

Charity – that stupid conversation we'd had on the lawn at Relena's stinking party all those years ago. Maybe if I'd not been so stubborn, he may have just given me enough cash to start up a business and I'd have paid him back not ended up where I was now.

The door opened and the memory of that conversation fades. Heero looks ever so slightly wary, maybe wondering if we'd had some kinda fight or something but instead, we're just stood at opposite ends of the room looking casual. They both enter knowing we haven't ripped each other to shreds. See we are more articulate. Managed to have a conversation without weapons.

"Feels like we need Wufei ranting about justice… make this into a proper Gundam reunion or something."

I don't get any laughs – not that I expect any as the four of us stand in a room together for the first time since the wars. Heero breaks the silence.

"I have a plan for getting to Dallas and Roth."

I just stare up at Heero. He has that slight frown thing going on – that crease of brows that means he's thinking  _really_  carefully over his words. He glances between me and Quatre and then towards Trowa who looks a little put out. Which I'm guessing it's because they've been discussing this plan and Tro doesn't like it. I am guessing that I won't either.

"We need to draw them out."

"And how to we do that, genius? The place is crawling with the Preventers, he ain't gonna do anything until he's sure that it's time for the end game."

There's a one word answer.

"Bait."

 


	20. Revenge Loves Company, Three Makes it a Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Underdog - You Me at Six

**Chapter Twenty**

**Revenge Loves Company, Three Makes it a Crowd**

"You know I still don't like the plan."

Heero rolled his eyes and ignored me for what must've been the fifteenth time in the span of forty-five minutes. He figured that once Quatre conceded the plan would work – master technician and all – I'd fall in line since he'd got Trowa to agree in some amazing stroke of bribery or pain of death. Figured that I'd agree but plans… so not my style. Instincts, flying by the seat of my pants, loose cannon or a freaking opportunist – that was me. Not the whole thorough and thoughtful thing – not the blueprints and whiteboards and coloured marker pens. Wufei knew that when he sent me on undercover ops – the reason I ended up in criminal gangs rather than in military cells and resistance factions. I like chaos – I damn near attract chaos. So plans? They don't suit me.

I'd said I didn't like it back at the bunker, said it wouldn't work, that it put Cutie-Q in unnecessary danger and well, was too obviously trap-like and that I thought Dallas wouldn't go for it. I'll correct myself – Dallas may go for it but I figure Roth ain't that stupid.

Call a press conference, alert the media and draw them out. Sounded simple, safe and logical in a room without windows in a bunker with titanium casing but not so good in the cold light of a colony day, you know. Plus I was kinda grumpy from being forced into the trunk of a town car with Heero. Not too spacious for one and plus, the oxygen level and sweatiness of the general atmosphere of said trunk had put me in the mood I was in now. Still disagreeing. Still working out my own ideas in my head. Still trying to protest that I needed to be the one to take on Dallas and that it was all real personal so I wanted to take the shot. Realised I so wasn't the team player I should be. No sir.

The screens in front of us show multiple angles of the exterior and interior of the building. The new L2 Conference Centre is a shiny building of glass and I hate it already - too many places and openings. I know damn well that we have set up the entire thing – got in touch with Wufei and got Preventer back up to assist the Winner security team. Know that we've paid some criminal types to spread rumours around the District about the Centre staff willingly taking bribes – primed the security forces to be ineffective at our selected entry point. It was like breadcrumbs or something. A process of a few days where we'd worked out the kinks until at least most of us were happy. Not yours truly but hey, you know, four outta five ain't bad.

Heero looks over at me and he gives me this slight quirk of the lips thing. I didn't realise how I was sat, that for some reason I've pretty much tucked my limbs underneath me in some kinda position that defies logic and looks damn near uncomfortable. One of my many quirks – rested and slept in so many weird and uncomfortable places during my childhood that I get myself into some weird positions when I want to – should've become a fucking contortionist in Tro's circus or something. Maybe my flexibility's a turn on – fuck knows.

I unfurled my limbs from my weird ass position and get to my feet and stretch before exiting the stupid cupboard that the surveillance has been put in. I'm sure it probably was a broom cupboard up until the point when the Winner Corp staff swept the floor yesterday and converted it into our lil' operation base. The main security room was being manned by Preventers – we'd broken into their feeds and were looking at nothing much at this point. There were three hours to go until the press conference and I hated the waiting. The entire plan is not my style, I don't sit and wait and watch. I get into the action, charm and weasel my way into the heart of the thing. It's just all too… still for me.

"I'm gonna see Quat."

There's not much to do. We're waiting. We're set up and I have my ulterior motives that I'm not gonna say shit about. I get a "yeah" that's basically grunted and his eyes go back to the screens, no longer interested in the contortions of my body or my stretches.

There's a Winner employed guard opposite our room. I know he's called Clarke and he doesn't give a shit who we are as he's been told that we're helping the boss. This floor is staffed in its entirety by Winner security – not the Preventers. Because of us. Because we'd tortured and left someone for dead a coupla days ago and knocked out Preventer agents and stole their guns. The reason we'd been brought into the building in the trunk of a town car.

We kinda figured the only car that wouldn't get searched thoroughly on entry into the cordon would be the car with Quatre in it – so we got intimately reacquainted with each other's bodies without any sex. Spent the journey wondering if sex was possible in that sorta space but then even my body ain't that flexible.

Quatre is in a meeting room with two guards outside and Lord knows how many inside. They glare at me but let me pass – I see he's stood by the window and want to knock his head against the nearest hard and stony surface. When people are out to shoot you, don't stand near windows, you know. Just logic or something. Probably has complete faith in the plan for all my protests. Hell, wasn't sure if there were any crack shots in Dallas' crew – figured the twins probably knew their way around a sniper rifle and maybe Dallas himself. The kids who'd stood guard on the rooftop of the hospital may have had some skills but doubted they knew more than point and shoot. Didn't think they had much skill. Huh, certainly not Zee. Didn't know how to hold a handgun never mind something more deadly.

"You don't notice the Kevlar," I said, alerting him to my presence. Figured he's so used to people just walking in on him that he doesn't hear my steps. Plus, I'm sneaky.

You honestly don't but I figure that Kevlar ain't enough if they go for a head shot – oh, hell, I know that the entire building is cordoned off. I know that every freaking window is being monitored, that every roof has the good guys on in it and that pretty much short of crashing through the window like, right now, the gang ain't gonna get near enough Quat to pop a shot and if they do – hell, I don't think Trowa will let them live. Or I suppose there's me. There's Heero. There's Wufei. The whole gang back together. No time for sentiment and beers and chat now. Just time to get the bad guys.

"You still think this is a bad idea," Quatre said.

I walk towards the window and see Monument Park below us. My fingertips touch the glass feeling the weird spinning thing of the floor to ceiling windows. The view shows the cordons, shows Preventers in tan jackets and men in suits, and I glance around the opposite buildings and see nothing more than windows gleaming in the fake daylight. The image should feel secure. This should be the most secure we could possibly be – all these damn Preventers and all this top notch security but I don't feel safe. The gun, the bombs and shit we can deal with. Not a virus strain.

"That obvious, huh?"

"We may not have seen each other for three years but you're very easy to read."

"Guess with the space heart thing…"

"No, just your body language."

I shrugged and looked back at him and felt for the thing in my back pocket. The recording device felt real small but this was a big gesture. If he was just reading my body language giving him this… maybe make him realise something.

"Can I ask you to do somethin' for me?"

"Of course, anything… Duo."

"Just… I want you to give this to Heero if anything… you know, goes south…"

Bingo. Blondie figures something's up. Really need to make less perceptive friends. Ones who don't see through me.

"Duo… what are you going to do?"

This is my moment for a dramatic exit – to look damn cool and walk away like I'd done so many times but I guess I stall a little this time. I'd made it half way across the room before I looked back with a shadow of the Shinigami smirk and see him stood in that suit. Still looks too big despite the body armour. Huh.

"Don't worry, Quatre… nothing stupid. Just may need to improvise."

There's a definite look of concern. Remember that it has always been easiest when it's just me against the world. Less people to hurt and disappoint. I walk outta the meeting room, past the Winner security staff who had secured this floor – he'd made a damn fuss about not trusting the Preventers and his own staff didn't bat an eyelash. Gotta love the loyalty Quat inspires in his people – bet they'd bleed for him.

I returned to the broom cupboard and watched the screens, tried to act natural and not at all weird, you know. The recording device is with Quatre, it's just the other item that feels heavy in my pocket and it's something I don't feel good about. I'm used to feeling like I'm doing wrong and bad things but this kinda takes it.

And all I can do is sit. For hours. Just peachy.

It takes over two hours for anything to happen. The monitors suddenly crackle and then descend into snow. The electronics have just been jammed. Dallas had one trick it seemed and it was one of mine. Pretty much hated him more. Then the alarm goes off. It makes this wailing sound that is fucking painful – I'm guessing it's some kinda fire alarm or security alarm – hell knows but it causes confusion and that's all that it needs to. It means they've breached the building – more than breached the perimeter. Our angles should've given us a perfect view but they didn't.

We had this planned – the service entrance to the kitchens was the entry point and we had installed more cameras to that location and extra surveillance yet we had no warning… how the hell? We wanted them to get into the building, wanted to get a visual on Dallas before we swooped but now we seemed to have jack shit and were firing blind.

Bad. They were in the building and now we had no comms with the lower floors to check the situation. They'd moved early, the conference centre was only partially full, the press kept to the main atrium and now the alarm would cause confusion and an evacuation… cause enough for some of the plain clothed gang to merge with the journalists. Snag a few nametags and press passes and they would get front row seats. This was meant to be a trap and I'd already figured ways that we could be screwed. Damn.

I know it's now or never. This is my shot. Sneak down in the confusion of alarms. Confront Dallas because I don't doubt he's a cocky enough shit to be here himself. He's me after all. I wouldn't miss out on the excitement – wouldn't let kids and lackeys do my job when I could be in the middle of the chaos and enjoy the show. Smile while I did. Hell, the thought of his smirk as I was beaten made me want this more.

"We move out," Heero said, reaching for his weapon and rising to his feet.

I kick back my chair and get to my feet and there's no distance between us as this is a broom cupboard. We stand for a second looking at each other – another show time, another time to save the day or something and there's always something, well, odd about this. You don't know if you're gonna see each other again. Yeah, this was less dangerous than other things we'd done but still…. But still Heero didn't know what I was thinking.

It takes one step to bridge the distance between us and place my hands around his waist, splay my fingers out and feel underneath the white t-shirt and grey shirt combo thing he has going on. I get a real puzzled look for my attempt at sensuality – soldier boy doesn't think this is the time or place and plus, it's time to 'move out' in old military speak but then he doesn't aggressively push me away or anything when my hand trails to the back of his neck. There's something about the confined space, maybe something about the situation and tension that means that he accepts the moment of contact more than I expected. Accepts my lips against his, tentatively at first, and I can't help my eyes slipping closed even though I know what I'm about to do. Try to hold onto the moment as I think I can't go back from what I'm about to do and what I plan on doing after…

I press forward a little, that sick part of me just wanting skin on skin contact and to feel his body against mine even in the middle of all this shit. He responds. Our kiss deepens and my tongue prods and probes for what it's worth and he accepts it before pushing forward a little and wars for some control. His hips push forward in that automatic thing and I just groan. Fuck. We're both halfway to hard and it ain't the time. It's like that even though we know we shouldn't be doing this, our bodies just want each other – we just want to crawl into each other's skin and kiss and fuck but it don't happen. I back off a fraction to leave clear air between our bodies but his hand is at the waistband of my jeans, a finger in the belt loops, the other in some kinda automatic thing is on my own neck underneath the braid where I'm sure he can feel the scars from my botch job of removing the tracker. I guess he didn't feel my hand as we kissed. Only ever known one way to get Heero to not be so damn  _aware_  of his surroundings and forget some of that training and that was with using my body, sticking my tongue down his throat or rubbing suggestively against him and I'm not below using those skills.

My eyes look deep into his and I guess my face betrays something even in the low light of the flickering screens. He senses something but his reactions ain't quick enough for once – or hell, I've been the most deceptive I've ever been. No lies. Didn't say a word. Only the pressure of a needle in his neck. Thanks doc. The Preventer doctor had supplied me with a plentiful supply of drugs and sedatives that were Yuy strength – or so I thought…

There's a look of complete betrayal with the plunge of the needle and I think for a second that I miscalculated the amount of sedative and it's not enough to knock him out. The word shit manages to go through my head as he grunts slightly but I can feel the slackness of his body as he starts to slump forward onto me, his head falling to my shoulder.

Think of saying something witty and clever into his ear. Something to make him remember what a dick he was on L3 X-18999. Should say one for zero or something. Least there was some dignity when he sucker punched me in the gut – gave me the chance to throw the first punch before he took the entire air supply from my body and knocked me out. This feels sneaky and we both know it. I don't go for a witty comment as his eyes flutter and he stumbles more into my arms.

"Sorry, babe."

I doubt he hears it as he's pretty much becoming a dead weight in my arms and, hell, he sure is a dead weight. All muscle. All compact and all damn heavy in my arms without him taking any of his body weight. I feel his breath tickle my neck as I awkwardly get him to the floor in the confined space. The glaring of the metallic walls feels harsher as I lay him on the floor in the glow of flickering computer screens. I brush away his hair from his forehead in some kinda affectionate thing, feeling something sting deep down. It becomes instinct to lean down and softly ghost across his lips an apology that ain't an apology.

"You wouldn't let me do what I needed to do."

I might as well tell the fucking walls for all the levels of understanding he has at this moment but, hell, I find myself talking.

"You'll forgive me… someday…"

It takes me a second to move, with the low glow of computer screens showing feeds of static interference. This glow thing… just softened his features… took away that harshness. Made him look younger. Made me feel damn bad about everything we'd gotten ourselves into. There was, well, to me, always something innocent about Heero Yuy. Not in a psychopathic Gundam pilot killer way, just in the ways of harsh reality. He'd not had to deal with the sorta people that I'd known all my life – not had to live among the scum of the earth and all. Just been so sheltered in his own little way. And unconscious on the floor, he just looked so untouched and it damn well hurt to leave him like this and the look of betrayal… that was worse than every stab wound and beating I'd ever taken. Fuck.

I stand and look down at him. Words bubble up but none of them are important now and he can't even hear me but somehow they just want to be said.

"Listen to the recording. You might understand."

I slip out of the room and out onto the brightly lit corridor. The floor has been evacuated as has the rest of the building and I hear the thrum of an alarm system in full force now that I'm outside the tiny isolation of the closet. I don't know where the Winner guards are. I have no idea where Quatre is and a part of me just don't care. Let me get Dallas. Let me find Roth. Revenge is sure as hell a great motivator. My companion since I was a kid – my wartime buddy – revenge was part of who I was and always would be. Shinigami and revenge. Sometimes seemed like all I'll ever be.

The bathroom is empty as expected, the alarm sounding less prominent in the john. I take a deep breath and feel my hands shake slightly as I extract the baggy from my back pocket and tip the contents by the sink. The small pink heart shaped pills fall soundless but then I feel like they make small explosions. My heart already feels like its jumping outta my chest – my lungs are fucking finding it hard to breath and my adrenalin is running a mile a minute. It's like battle but I can't maintain this shit now. The virus wiped me more than I've let on – not to Heero. Not to the usually so damn perceptive Quatre. Not to the miracle medical worker Trowa – the man who can put self-destructed boys back together. Nope, none of them figured it out – how I'm struggling to take steps in straight lines, how my bodies a fucking mess of hormones and infection and I'm coping because that's what I do, what I always do, but it don't help. These will.

I'm not naïve – no one can ever accuse me of it. Damn, don't think I was ever innocent. Not like sleeping beauty in the control room. I knew this should be labeled a bad idea – that this should not be done. How much shit can one nineteen year old body take? I'd treated my body like shit for most of my life – a patch work of scars and wounds and let's not even think about zero g's and the internal shit from battles. Just don't. Don't also think about the amount of drinking that I'd done for someone as young as I was or the fact my diet consisted of junk or not much at all to the occasional dabbles with drugs I'd taken on undercover ops. Let's say, I think medically, I'd be fucked by the time I got into my mid-twenties anyway.

So I'm totally wide eyed as I look at the tiny heart shaped pills in the strip lights of a fancy bathroom in a pretty shiny conference centre. I don't know if they're good shit. Didn't know Jorge's pedigree as a dealer. Tried to remember, pinching the bridge of my nose and leaning forward, trying to fucking think what rep Duke had in his day but it's all a haze… all a blur and I just decide to go for three pills. No exact idea why. I just figure one won't touch me. Two will get me somewhere and three will, you know, do what I want. I swallow two and then get the third and decide to grind it a little before rubbing it into my gums in some attempt to get it into my bloodstream quicker. I pocket the rest of the baggy not wanting to leave illicit drugs that look like candy randomly within reach of kiddies or unsuspecting idiots, you know, deep down somewhere I'm a sweetheart. I run the water and lean over awkwardly to drink some before splashing some on my face.

For a second I see the guy in the mirror. I don't really look at myself very much anymore – don't see that I'm pale and there's still traces of bruises over my face, don't see that I look like hell and probably deserve it. I feel like the drugs are already working – know it's only a psychological thing as they'll take a little time to get absorbed into the blood stream but my hearts doing this banging against my rib cage thing. Like I'd been running for my life among rubble. Like I'd been dead centre in the middle of a battle scything through mobile dolls. Like I'd been in a vicious punch up. Whatever, it's doing this weird thing. Duh dum. Duh dum. Too fucking quick.

"Bad idea, Duo," I said to myself which pretty much compounds the fact that I'm crazy.

Sure as hell already know that. I straighten up and ignore the slight spinning and concentrate on the slight outta body-ness of the situation. Go with it or something. I'd been high before but this was, well, I have no idea – suppose it's more adrenalin. Maybe like being pumped full of the ZERO system or something.

My hand does a slight shaking thing as I grab for my gun and check the clip. The knife is in my front pocket and I check it's still there – paranoia must be a side effect or something. The walk out of the bathroom is fine and I realise that I'm being a hypochondriac or something. Some kinda placebo effect – I have taken the drug therefore I think it's working straight away or something.

The alarm still rings and I feel like I'm having some war flashback – walking through OZ bases but the whole excessive amount of glass and chrome removes some of that feeling. It's light. Bright. But I feel dizzy as I start in a jog towards the stairs – we are on the fucking eighth floor and the elevators ain't gonna work. I half-heartedly press the call button as I pass but know it's pointless – I feel like we've totally underestimated this. Most of the time I like being right being that people expect me to be the idiot but sometimes… not so good to be right.

Instead, I'm running down eight flights of stairs and contemplating dangling off and jumping and I can't tell if it's because I'm usually this reckless or I can feel something altering my usual stellar picture of mental health. My heartbeat reverberates through my entire body like a tattoo, matching the wailing of the alarms sound. Duh dum. Duh dum.

There's the sound of rattling gunfire from somewhere and I have no idea where the hell it came from. I just go on faith that they've moved Quatre away. I just forget the Preventers and the press conference plan and make my way down to the ground floor – this is totally between me and Dallas and that's what it's gonna become.

But then the first stab through my chest happens and I'm feeling squeezing and fuck knows what else… It stops me and I'm leaning against the wall of the third floor stairs and listening to the alarms and the too loud sound of my own heartbeat.

Duh dum.

Fuck. Squeeze.

Duh dum.

When in hell did I remotely think this was a good idea?

Duh dum.

 


	21. See You at the Bitter End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Bitter End - Placebo

**Chapter Twenty One**

**See You at the Bitter End**

The pause on the stairwell is cut short as the ground floor door opens and I instinctively make a break through the third floor door, still feeling like my heart's about to explode from my chest. The light is bright as I exit the stairwell and I close the door behind me and let my body slide down the cool, hard metal. I'm hyperventilating. I'm not having a fucking heart attack – at least that's what I tell myself in some attempt to reassure myself but then I'm not really the kind of guy that's hyperventilated and I sure don't know what a heart attack feels like.

It's what old dudes have when they've spent their lives eating cheeseburgers and drinking scotch and smoking cigars and playing the occasional round of golf. It ain't something that I'm going to do – not yet, anyway. My body can give up after I get Dallas. It's what keeps running through my head as I take a moment to re-evaluate the situation.

I'm on the third floor. There's nothing but large rooms here. And I know that Heero is unconscious on the eighth floor. I have no freaking idea where Quatre is or where Trowa will be. My guess is that Wufei is at least helping command the Preventers if not actually doing so, as you know, we had kinda fucked up his glittering career recently with getting a hospital destroyed and knocking him out and making him look ever so slightly weak and maybe even a little incompetent. Wondered how he would take accusations of his mistakes from his superiors. I can imagine not well. Just what everyone loves to hear – a patented Wufei weakness rant.

The run through calms my breathing and my heart rate, while still elevated, is more normal than I could hope for. It's like going into mission mode and I can deal with that – it ain't just soldier boy who can use these coping methods – I learnt them as well.

I listen to the sounds in the stairwell, waiting for them to get close to this floor. I can hear heavy boot falls and I stifle a smirk. I figure that I can do this one last time – be Shinigami, lay my ghosts to rest and finally stop blaming my own sorry ass for Solo. And after that, it don't really matter.

I open the door back into the stairwell with excessive force. I feel adrenalin coursing through my veins and it's like I'm invincible. Maybe this is what Heero feels on a daily basis. Must be awesome to be him. So this is how you self-destruct without dying, jump outta hospital windows without feeling the pain and generally do some shit hot heroics without thinking of the consequences. Kinda fun.

The door makes contact as I'd calculated the correct moment to open it and it slams full force into a face. I'm kinda figuring it ain't a Preventer but I had my suspicions anyway – figured those booted feet were not Preventer issue. One of the most important skills as an expert in stealth and infiltration is that you listen, you know. People may doubt I have the skill to be quiet and at times, I damn well don't, but hell, I knew how to really listen and I recognised those steps. Two goons. Big build. Dallas' boys.

The door is metal and the amount of force makes the guy on the other side shudder and fall. There's a moment of recognition as I step through, slamming it again behind me. The twins never were the smartest but it takes them too much time to react. Eyebrow twin is on the floor, the other takes precious few moments to raise his weapon and it only takes a well-aimed kick to send him crashing backwards down the stairs, heavily, painfully. The sound of a body falling down the stairwell reverberates despite the alarms. Despite the hammering of my heart in my chest. Duh dum. I'm not sure if he'd dead or stunned but there's the sound of a crack, bones meeting hard floor and it's kinda sickening. It stuns eyebrow twin enough to let me relieve him of his weapon – they've got semi-automatics that look Preventer issue – once it's in my hand I work out that they are Preventer issue.

"Where's Dallas?"

Eyebrow twin looks down at his brother who's now got a pool of blood coming out of his head and not me and he tries to make a move to go see the condition. I guess this is something I won't understand as I have no biological link to anybody in this whole dinky world – nothing like the connection of being together your entire life, in the womb and all – and a more sympathetic guy, one that wasn't trying to get revenge and hadn't had the shit beaten out of him by these jerks, would maybe let him check. Maybe they would. But I don't.

I grab him by his collar. I suddenly notice how the gang is dressed as being that I'd been kicking one twin down the stairs while disarming the other, my observation skills were less than awesome. They're not in street clothes. They're dressed to look staff at the damn Conference Centre. They don't look at all distinctive. They even have ID's – they probably just walked through the staff entrance, scanned their ID's and as we'd focused our attention on providing one entry point, they'd done something we'd not expected or seen coming. Damn it all.

The twin struggles against me and I can see blood drip down his shirt from his face – his nose is pretty banged up, the blood steadily flowing – bitch to get dry cleaned. I push his head against the metal of the wall behind him. Hard. It's enough for the back of his head to make a little crunch sound but not hard enough to break anything. Still not quite Yuy strength, you know, even with the help of the little pick-me-ups.

"Fuck you," he spat.

"Original."

Ah yeah, I'd totally gotten used to being told 'fuck you.' Usually my default choice of swearing – funny to be on the other side. I push him again. See? No more Mr. Nice Guy, buddy.

"You tell me and I get your bro some medical attention."

I get a snort in response. I'm totally bluffing here. I have no comms. I have no way of getting an ambulance or a paramedic and I know shit about what has happened on the ground floor. If the gun fire was correct, there could be plenty of bullet wounds needing treating and if a Preventer agent was down then hell… they're not gonna try and save a street punk bleeding to death in a stairwell. Unless they had valuable shit to tell and I'm kinda positive the twins knew little – nothing about Roth, maybe some stuff about their job in the plan, but not big picture kinda goons.

I push him, hard, again, put my arm across his throat and push, limiting his oxygen supply enough to make him scramble against me. It's enough to make him panic. I'd always thought the way I'd most hate to die would be running out of air – brought back fun memories of the Moon Base and 'Fei and thinking I was gonna just stop breathing… it was tempting to panic. Wufei didn't. Always amazed me. As I felt my old heart hammer in my chest from the exertion of threatening this creep, I kinda wondered if I'd ever get a chance to say that. Or anything to anyone.

There's a slight noise from the other twin. It distracts me enough to look down and I can't tell if I'm imagining shit – do these stupid pills cause hallucinations? – or if I'd not quite killed the dude. My arm loosens enough to let eyebrow twin breathe and slide down the wall. He chokes and feels for his throat. That automatic gesture.

"Basement." His voice ain't real loud and I barely hear it above the hammering in my ears and my own chest. "Dallas will be waiting for you."

The last sentence sounds kinda creepy. He slumps a little and I don't ask anything else. I kick out at his body, he slumps further with a whimper of pain and I'm not sure what damage I've done but I start back down the stairs, carefully walking over the prone body of the other twin. I'm thinking dead. There's too much blood and I can't avoid walking through the sticky brownish-red puddle. I should feel something for the kids – maybe some of the ones who didn't know the shit they were in – Zee, Lance, the young ones who didn't know the dangerous end of a gun – but the twins evoked no sympathy. Their boots had bruised my body and hell, they'd probably enjoyed it. They knew about the virus and shit. They were in Dallas' inner sanctum and fuck, they could die.

Maybe I am Shinigami again. Maybe I really don't care. Maybe the drugs have totally fucked any part of my morality that was left. Whatever, I think of the schematics of the building as I take the stairs far too quickly, breathing shallowly, feeling my heart squeeze and constrict in my chest. Duh dum. Duh dum. Never been so conscious of it. Never before felt every beat of my heart.

I'm thinking of the schematics of the building and my mind drifts ever so briefly to sitting behind Heero while he looked at the floor plans on a borrowed laptop and the how my hands were just so lightly touching him and he wasn't flinching. Wasn't pushing me away. Learnt to accept my touch again and a wave of nausea hits. I figure he'll never forgive me and I deserve that. Totally do but my mind seems to be taking me back to the bunker and gentle touches and having my arms around his waist from behind, seeing the details of this building in white lines. And the basement is where the main bulk of the security located. It has a laundry facility to accommodate the masses of linen needed to provide comfort for however many delegates this place hosted and whatever other fancy shit they needed for this fancy ass building.

And the basement would be a weak point. Fewer cameras. A restricted area. And shit… it was where the main power supplies were located. Communication lines. And the temperature controls and the air-conditioning system. The basement was the key – hell, they'd ignored our trap as it wasn't part of their plan. They had their own plan and so far it was working.

I reached the ground floor and thought about checking the situation but figured I had no time and shit knows whether I'd be arrested as a gangbanger or given an opportunity to explain myself. Didn't know what my status was – undercover operative, rogue agent, gangbanger… all too vague so I took the final set of stairs. A few cheerful signs told normal folks that the basement was for staff only and was not permitted for guests or delegates. I suppose normal people don't consider going down to the basement anyway… only if lost and I ain't lost.

The door to the floor is closed with a key card and a keypad with a code input requirement. And I didn't have either. I didn't even have lock picking equipment with me – I'd lost that when I'd been searched at the damn hospital and replacing it had not been on my list of priorities in the past coupla days. I wonder if I could just shoot out the mechanism but that's so unlikely with the level of complexity of the security in the building and even as I bring out the gun I figure it's a moot point.

There's a slight amount of movement at the periphery of my vision as I realise a small camera is located above the entrance to the door and suddenly that camera moves. Remote and all. I don't know whether to give it a sarcastic wave as the noise of the electronic lock being overridden can be heard, ever so quiet, among the sounds of alarms and my own heart and breath.

I push on the handle and the heavy metallic door opens. My gun is out in front of me as I push harder to be confronted with a metallic corridor that sure as hell brings OZ bases to mind – all drab places with alarms and flashing lights. I expect to be greeted – I expect that Dallas has half his crew ready to rip me apart as I was the great Preventer traitor – pretending to be one of them only as it suited my purpose. But I supposed I wasn't the commendable Preventer agent – I was doing what the hell I wanted and wasn't playing by any rules or protocols. They didn't get that I would be one of them if… if I'd not got out, if I'd not met the guy who's unconscious so many floors above me. The thought steels me as I take a quick sweep, gun raised, along the corridor and I remember the intersections.

There are various stairs from different corners of the floor that lead into the basement. I guess so staff can access laundry or something. My gun shakes just a small amount in my hand and I feel sweaty palms. This is so not me. I am not a wreck. I don't have nerves but there's a jitter running through my body and I pause, standing against the wall, the harsh metal against the skin at the back of my neck making me shiver, my hands and forearms feeling the cold. I don't think the drugs are good shit.

In fact, I'm sure they ain't as my heart beats hard. Squeezing. A couple more real deep breaths. Duh dum. Or I've pretty much fucked myself over by giving myself an OD. Not the time. Not the time, Duo. Pray to the only God I believe in and hope that Shinigami gives me enough time to do this…

The deep breath, the wiping sweaty palms on rough denim does something and probably the silent prayer to Shinigami and I take a few steps to an intersection, carefully strafing both sides with gun raised, steady, but I see no one else. The eerie silence of the area is worse than the alarm sound in the building above – here it's distorted and far away and there is no sound of anything other than heavy breathing. Mine.

The control room for the surveillance feeds is down an intersection and I take it cautiously, sticking to the walls, taking wary steps and there's the first sign of life… a door is open that should be locked. There's even a sign on the partially open thing that says 'to be locked at all times' so damn, that instruction's been ignored.

I push it open, gun raised, but am met with resistance as the door will not open any further, and sliding my body through I realise why. A fucking blood bath. A guy in a Preventer uniform is slumped over the control panel, blood pours from an open wound that pretty much took off half of his face and I sure as hell don't recognise the guy. His dirty blond hair is mostly intact but the screens are splattered with grey matter and blood and bone. The coppery smell overcomes the small room.

The second body is behind the door, a bullet hole right through the stomach, which is so big that it's a complete damn mess. With a normal weapon, the shot would not necessarily prove fatal – from Dallas' crew and the hollow point bullets, it was grim and pretty damn effective. Poor dude. He looks like a newish recruit – must've been in his mid-twenties. Not much older than me. Another Preventer body. Shit.

I don't bother checking for pulses as is protocol with agent down. The protocols are pretty pointless when one agent don't have most of this face and the other doesn't have his guts. I can already feel the coppery smell and clotting blood sticking to my body as the floor is saturated and my boots are walking through it. My eyes flicker to the screens and the red stained monitors. The images are looped from earlier in the day and tell me nothing. They'd controlled the vidfeed and I wondered how the hell they could without having inside help. Then I figure. Roth knew too darn much – knew me, knew my records like they weren't top secret James Bond shit that no one should be able to access and Wufei's concern that someone within the Preventer was feeding information out… The plan was never going to work as they knew what we were trying.

The plan had so few people on board. The five of us. Winner staff. Une and a few higher ups and the men and women of Wufei's undercover unit. It was one of them.

I don't get time to figure out more or attempt to get any intel out – I wanted to check if they'd block the hard lines because there was a chance that the communication jammer may not block out that but I realised I'd done something stupid. Blame the drugs and the weird high thing I'm on – blame the recklessness that I'm kinda working on – but this room was at the end of an intersection. And the one thing you don't kinda do – or shouldn't in a situation where everything ain't hopeless – is put yourself into a corner with no real exit strategy which is what I'd done. I heard the short, mocking laugh from behind me a second later than I should've – the hammering in my ears and the loud fluttering of my heart had distracted me from the noise of boot fall – or maybe it was just viewing this damn carnage. The amount of blood and slow sound of it dripping was sickening to even someone like me who'd spent a lifetime causing death.

"Thought you were dead, G-Boy."

"Takes a lot more than that, you know, I am Death."

"Should've just put a bullet in your head."

I laugh low in his face. "You kinda made the mistake that everyone does, Dallas."

I'm being stupidly cocky here. He's got a much bigger gun and I can feel how damn dry my mouth is and how sweaty my palms are. He just raises the eye brow with the piercing in a real mocking way – the sorta thing that makes me want to smash his face in – but instead, I just answer him, my voice all steady.

"You underestimated me."

There's a moment that he just looks at me as though I'm fucking crazy and I figure I deserve that. Maybe it's those few seconds that the words need to sink in – hell, I've been underestimated my entire damn life. I was the boy with long hair in a gang, I was the fifteen year old with little training that was handed the keys to a Gundam, I was the undercover operative sent to the worst places on earth and paid the worse kinda dues for the way I looked. And now I was the Preventer agent standing in the way of this and I was still being underestimated. Damn.

He wanted to stand here and trade insults – wanted to turn this into some cheesy finale of an action film where we talked before the fight takes place but I don't give him the chance. His eyes widened as I kicked. He wasn't expecting the suddenness of my attack. His gun dropped but went off in the process, the bullet ricocheting around the metallic room and making a noise that would surely bring some Preventer agents here. I automatically duck at the sound but the bullet doesn't clip me or him. He takes a second to go for the gun and I take the opportunity.

I rushed him, dropping him into the ground and put my elbow over his windpipe. No more fucking around. Dallas could meet Shinigami.

He groans and does a spluttering thing and I take a second to realise that, fuck, he is probably a better fighter than me as our positions are reversed and I'm on my back and both guns have been lost in the scramble. Should've just shot him straight away. Hindsight's a wonderful thing, you know, as hands tighten round my throat. Tight hands and I feel the thrumming of my heart against my rib cage harder… duh dum. Duh dum.

I know he's taunting me – I can see his fucking face above me as he tries to suffocate me but I'm not listening as I slide my hands down my body to get to the front pocket of my jeans. The problem with suffocating someone is that it takes effort and damn, I'm not sure Dallas has ever done this. I'm struggling against him but he's got the upper hand until….

My fingertips reach the knife and I just pull and aim upwards not giving a shit about how effective the stab is – I just need to take a breath… I need his hands off my throat and it works.

His hands release as blade slides into flesh. I can hear the howl of pain more than all the words of threat and insult. I kick upwards, his body falling off me as he holds his stomach, the blade still embedded in his body.

I smirk, wipe my hand across my own face, feeling my own blood there as I take two deep breaths. I've been stabbed in the stomach before, the wound was impressive and badly stitched, I remembered the searing pain of flesh being separated by a sharp point and I remembered calloused fingers tracing it gently.

I don't get to my feet immediately, instead, I reach out for the guns, stretching back towards the surveillance room where they are both embedded in coppery blood but there's a hand on my leg and it's pulling me back.

"No, you don't."

I kick back, hard, damnit and it connects with something fleshy and I hear the grunt as my fingers meet the coldness of steel and slipperiness of blood.

The gun feels solid in my fingers as I turn my body to a reclining position, Dallas' own gun pointed as his head, and our eyes connect.

"Where's Roth?"

He laughs and I notice there's foamy blood coming from his lips. "You think he's here, kiddo? Naw, he bailed as soon as the hospital went up. In the wind, blue eyes."

I take a deep breath and start to rise a little, feeling the unsteadiness of my own two feet. "The virus?"

"And why would I tell you that?"

I'm unsteady against the wall and I notice that there's so much blood on my clothing and body that I don't know what's mine and what's other peoples and the nausea hits again. My hand touches the metallic walls for support.

"You're dead, Dallas. Think of it as your last rites or something."

He smirks and suddenly my legs aren't under me and I realise that he was playing a little more than I thought. The knife is in his hand, he's removed it from where it was embedded in his stomach but the gun's in mine. I take a shot but it's off and hits the metal walls, the sound deafening in the corridor and I hit the floor with a thud. My body takes a moment to react as the blade is on my throat and I realise that he's probably going to kill me. This is so not how I want to go.

"The virus is already in the colony weather system. It's all go on Zee's confirmation of the Winner kill."

He sees the look in my eyes – I guess my puzzled expression is easy to read.

"You thought we underestimated you, kid? Hell, you sure as shit missed her, didn't ya? Cute chick, a little unsure of herself and damn, everyone ignores her."

The knife presses further into my throat and I feel the first trickles of blood.

"Never told you her real name, did she? We call her Zee but her full name is Zadie. Zadie Roth. Daddy's little princess." He laughed – that trademark mocking laugh thing. "You think they'll pick her up, the Preventers? The pretty girl in the waitress outfit? Naw, I don't think so…"

"Naw, I don't think they will…" I said quietly. "But I will."

The sudden push causes the blade to slice my skin a little but it's superficial unlike the bullets that penetrate Dallas. I fire twice. The second shot is unnecessary as the bullets penetrate chest and with his love of hollow point bullets, the damage is devastating.

I push the guy off me and unsteadily get to my feet, raise a hand to the wound on my neck and take a breath. I look down at Dallas, feel the shuddering of my own body, the duh dums of my heart and the erratic breathing.

One more thing to do and that's it Shinigami, I promise.

Let me find Zee.

 


	22. Honey, Release my Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Number City - Coheed and Cambria

**Chapter Twenty Two**

**Honey, Release my Heart**

The corridor moves. I'm kinda sure it does, it moves like fun house mirrors making my reflection weird and distorted. I lean down to take back my knife, wipe the blood against the dark material on my thigh and I feel bile and stomach acid burn the back of my throat. The smell of blood is overwhelming but I'm moving and I'm not throwing up... when you still remember the smell of burning bodies as though it clings to you, the smell of a little blood really don't seem all that bad.

I stop, I listen and the alarm is still ringing and I'm thinking someone really shoulda sorted that shit out but then I'm thankful for it – no one probably heard the shots. I can't goddamn deal with someone seeing me right now, I don't have words of protest and I'm sure I look as damn criminal as I ever have in a basement full of bodies and blood. The world keeps moving oddly as I make it through the corridors, leaning heavily on the walls for support and trying to breathe deeper to calm my body down.

My hand drifts to my neck. The cut ain't deep but it bleeds pretty steadily and I look at it on my fingers. I'm in worse shape than when I started this whole vigilante shit and I still ain't quite done. I try to remember the clues that I'd ignored that Zee was more than she said but I blanked her. My threat summary was that she wasn't one – call it male chauvinism or call it pure dumbassness and making assumptions but I'd not thought of her as anything more than a chick who didn't know how to hold her gun right. I'd been blinded by Dallas and his swagger and his cocky attitude and just assumed he was the one I had to worry about. Didn't think about the chick. Geez, I was as bad as Wufei, thinking girls ain't capable even though I damn well knew that they are – I  _knew_ how badass girls had to be in gangs and I'd ignored all of Solo's goddamn lessons. Forgotten his hand on my shoulder and telling me how shit was.

Christ, I remembered telling Heero we had to watch out for the girl – the hierarchies of gangs and shit. I fucking  _told_ him she could be Dallas' second. I felt like I could hear Solo's voice in my head – the smirk on his face as he told me I was a dumb kid for forgetting his lessons. For ignoring my own instincts and being distracted by a poor sweet little girl act. Damn.

And that thought just made me more determined – it's all or nothing now. I reach in for the baggy of pills and  _shit_  if I am ODing and it's the moments leading up to a heart attack or death then, damnit, I'm gonna go down swinging. And I'll take her down with me. The pill goes down and I think – one last ride, Shinigami, old buddy? One more fight, one more moment of doing  _this_ and then some kinda eternal rest or whatever.

But first, I need to get out of the basement. And I need to know where the hell Quat is and where Zee might be.

I wonder if the other pill will do anything – wonder if it will increase my already erratic heart rate – give me another high, another shot of adrenalin and I'm outta the basement and I'm walking into the light of the atrium and I have my hands raised in surrender as a gun ends up in my face and I see that this is something I am not getting out of. I can start running my mouth – explain that I am an undercover Preventer, hell, use the good old fashioned "do you know who I am" crap and see if being a former Gundam pilot impresses anybody. Though considering there is no record of me being a Gundam pilot, I'll come off as a crazy. Hell, nobody ever said I was sane. I never have.

I look like any member of the gang and I'm covered in blood so I don't protest – well not a lot – when the cuffs are secured around my wrists but I do goddamn scream for Agent Chang. This makes them blink as I look 'round the lobby to see it dissolved to a crime scene – all glass shards and bullet casings – and they stall a little.

The demand for Chang confuses them enough and I wish that we'd developed some code word or something for me to say so that the random Preventers who are just, well, doing their job, would just let me go. Obviously, the standard Preventer agents are actually a little intimidated by yours truly as one looks at me, looks me up and down as though I am nothing more than a gangbanger, and then one goes to find someone superior. I often wonder about the bulk of the Preventer agents. They never seem the sharpest knives in the drawer – always those middle grade OZ and Alliance soldiers, and hell, probably some White Fang who have no imagination but follow some orders. Always leave the thinking to those above their pay grade. Often made me wonder why we'd not won the war quicker.

I think, ever so briefly, that I should just run for it. That I should swing my legs round and take the guys feet from him. The cuffs are thin metal, not thick and I could probably wriggle my wrists outta them with some determination. They are not tight. They obviously think I'm not too much of a threat. Considering the blood, they probably think I'm more injured than I am – I don't reveal to these agents that I'm covered in other people's blood. Dallas, the twins, hell, those poor fuckers from the surveillance room on my boots. But yeah, that makes me sound psychotic.

My heart rate is still loud in my ears but I feel calm – its like, I'm in a zone and I'm sorta having some slight outta body thing. It's still hard and squeezing and just, not, like normal but I can deal as there's a mix of endorphins and something else. I do feel invincible.

When Wufei sees me, I think he wants to kick my ass but instead he lays a hand on my arm and pretty much drags me away from the main atrium area and into a men's room that's empty. No other agent follows him. I don't know whether he's communicating with hand signals, glares or smoke signals but the agents know not to follow Chang. I think every agent I've met has experienced 'Fei's intimidation factor and they all seem to want to keep their distance from him. No one disputes that he's taken someone – someone who looks like a prisoner – into a bathroom. The alarm still sounds but it dampened here.

I know he's gonna explode but I take a second to check that the stalls are empty before I say anything. They are. He approaches me and takes my hands to release the cuffs. I meet his eyes as I flex wrists.

"It's Zee. The chick. She's Roth's daughter."

I'm walking towards the mirror and I see my pupils are dilated and my vision is ever so fucking… weird. The guy looking back at me looks kinda… sticky… a light sheen of sweat has broken out across my skin and I look... ill. In the harsh strip lighting I look like I feel as I grab paper towels to stem bleeding.

"The virus is in the weather system. They release on confirm of Q's kill."

"You can confirm this?"

"Dallas told me."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yeah."

Hell, I believed him – he had the complete upper hand in that moment and he was pretty darn positive that I was dead or dying so this information wasn't going to pass any further.

"Stay here."

I nodded at the instruction, taking a moment to stem blood and splash water on my face. I looked no better. He returned.

"Agents dispatched," he confirmed. "Where is Dallas now?"

"Dead – basement – two hollow points to the chest."

I give credit to Wufei as he barely takes a breath and nods. Just accepts. Years working together builds trust and he damn near trusts me and I him. He stands looking far too closely at me and I'm sure he can see through me, that I'm more than a little injured, it's more than a little cut would do to someone like me.

"Where's Quat?"

"There's a safe room in the Conference Centre. No windows. Winner security guarding it. Passwords to enter. Winner is quite safe."

"Who knows the passwords?"

"Myself, Barton… a few of my team."

I blink. "Your team?"

"A few of them… my best. You've met them on extractions. Prenter. Murphy. Cross."

"Any of them not reported in recently?"

"Murphy hasn't but, I assure you, Maxwell, I work with this man – I trust him."

"I don't trust anyone easily."

It was true. I could count the people I trusted on one hand and all of them except Howard piloted a Gundam. Even though I found Trowa, like, unsettling, if I needed someone to trust, I'd still damn go to him. Solidarity and shit.

"Someone told them the plan. It ain't any of us."

"I trust –"

I cut him off mid-sentence and his nostrils flare. I think he's sick of me at the moment – sick of everything I've done and all the rules that I flout on a regular basis.

"I don't. Where's Quat?"

"Top floor. There's a floor still under construction."

That's enough and I make a move but his grip is damn quick. Me and Wufei have never gotten near to fighting in all these years – he's never shown me how much stronger he is than I am – never put his hand that tight on my arm. I feel like he could bend it behind my back without trying and his fingers are taut and muscles flexed.

"You are in no condition to go out there."

"It's only a little blood."

"What did you take, Maxwell?"

"I don't know what you mean."

It ain't an outright lie – my conscience can be skewed when I want it to and this was one of those times.

"You are sweating. Your pupils are dilated. You look like hell. You  _took_ something."

"'Fei, let me go. I gotta find Zee. I know what she looks like. Hell it needs to be  _me._ "

"This isn't always about you doing everything."

"Let me get her. She'll listen to me."

"What if you don't find her?"

"I'll find her… trust me 'Fei."

The grip loosens. "I will send you with back up."

"No back up. Alone or nothing."

"You are insane."

"I've never been sane."

The door opens and he releases me entirely. Probably doesn't want to look like he's beating on a prisoner as that would violate human rights or something.

"Agent Chang – Une requests that you command the team at the weather system."

Wufei hesitates and looks back at me – knowing that he has to leave me and do as the big old boss lady commands. The agent doesn't like the hesitation and glares between both of us.

"Now Agent Chang."

"One moment."

"Une's orders –"

"One moment!"

The agent visibly paled. I snickered. "Get out, kid, if you know what's good for you."

He don't need telling twice and there's a sudden urgency to Wufei's movement. He removes his Preventer jacket, a little awkwardly, the injured shoulder obviously still causing some pain and throws it at me. I catch it but it takes me a second to get what he's doing.

"Hide your hair."

A moment later, he produces his badge and passes it over, the letters of his name inscribed in metal and his serial number on it. No one will look at it close enough to see its Chang and I'm not in the slightest bit Asian so it's a moot point what is says.

"And hide your  _damn_ tattoos."

I take off the black hoodie and put the jacket on, pushing my braid down the back and while I don't look remotely Preventer agent, I look enough like one to pass by a few people. I zip the jacket up and feel the warmth of his body heat against my skin and the slight smell that must be either cologne or just 'Fei's smell. It feels weird wearing his jacket but it ain't something I have time to dwell on.

"Go."

I don't need any more than that order but I stall, slightly reluctant, and I want to mouth thanks or something but I just make my move and this time the agents ignore me – no, they don't ignore me, they just are getting ordered around by Agent Chang as I make my way back up the fucking stairwell to the damn top floor.

The corridor on the top floor is still under construction. The glass is in place but there is no furniture. Sheets hang and hide building equipment. I take slow steady steps, hearing the duh dums of my heart loud again. The alarm doesn't function up here – probably as there is still building work and that disrupts fire alarms anyway. Not wired up yet. A sheet hangs low and I push it to the side. Hiding place in plain view. This floor wasn't on the plans. This wasn't in the goddamn plan so it had to be a Preventer that had told Zee.

I walk slowly making sure my steps are muted though I feel like my heart beat must be heard above the relative silence of the floor. I'm walking carefully but my foot suddenly meets something unexpected and I see another corpse. This time it's a Preventer – a familiar one – and he's warm as I touch his neck to check his pulse. This must've been Murphy. I tried to remember him, he was on an extraction team, hell, I remember that but I don't know anything more than that. They are hardly memorable when you see so many of them, you know. He's been shot multiple times as though a whole damn clip has been unloaded into his body at point blank range. All a sign of someone who ain't killed before – someone who doesn't truly know how to use a weapon. Total and complete overkill. I realise in the moment that I take to lean down that there's movement behind me and I hear the click of a gun at my head.

"Hand me your weapon."

"Zee."

I feel I should congratulate her. She's got this far. All in that little waitresses outfit and she thinks she's gonna make it. Thinks she'd won and got it down. I rise to standing slowly and I hand over the gun knowing that I don't really need it to get her and she blinks at it, noticing the familiar weight of Dallas' calibre weapon.

"I wondered if you'd be here," she said, a mocking hint in her tone. Nothing like the girl at the hospital. Wow, she was one cold chick. And the academy award goes to…

"Well, I don't like to keep a lady waiting, sweetheart."

She still reacts to the sweetheart comment. It makes a small grin curve at my lips. I want to know what fucked her up enough to not like being called girly names. Wondered what daddy was like. Times I am glad for being a damn orphan.

I kicked at the Preventer agent with a little gentleness considering he was corpse and couldn't feel it. A little respect for the dead or something.

"What did this guy do?"

"He would've talked – my father had him paid off but he… wasn't as committed as we needed. Least he has the password," she said, and then she gestures with her own weapon having pocketed Dallas'. "Move over there."

She gestures towards a door but instead I move a little so my back is to the glass wall as I have no plan of doing anything she instructs me to do – not outta some rebelliousness, more outta retaining some of the upper hand. I am not going to make anything easy for her.

"I don't think so, darling."

"I'm not as weak as you think I am."

"Really? Cause I kinda figure that no one can act that well, honey. You still don't know how to hold that gun properly. You shoulda got me to show you."

"Just so I can kill you."

"You won't kill me." I want to think she won't shoot me and I'm trying to be as damn charming and convincing as I can be. "You don't want to do this," I said in my most calm and reassuring voice.

The words are lame and totally irrelevant at this point. I want to think she doesn't want to do this. I want to convince myself that stalling her will work and I don't have to do what I should do. Killing her seems wrong. Preventer arrest would be better for her – the rest of her young life in a deep space prison in an orange jumpsuit might change her perspective.

"I think I do."

"What do you think you're doing sweetheart? Getting daddy's approval or some shit?"

"Don't say that!"

She looks kinda shaken by my words. She ain't all confident and I'm gonna press.

"Don't say what? Call you sweetheart or bring up daddy? Hell, it makes me glad I don't have parents if this is what your father gets you to do… let me just ask – did daddy like it that you were fucking Dallas?"

This pisses her off enough to make the gun shake in her grasp and I take a small step towards her, the glass behind me, and I know I only have to reach out and take the damn gun but not yet…

"You don't know anything."

"Then explain, Princess. Enlighten me."

The sarcasm literally drops off me and she shakes her head, the gun wavers and I'm close enough to rush her. The only thing I see as a problem is that she is so… so not used to a weapon that I figure she might just fire and get lucky. Least that wasn't one thing she was totally faking.

"I  _need_ to do this. I have to prove… I can do  _this._ "

"To who? Your dad? He ain't on the colony and hell, your honey bunny is dead."

She chokes, a small sound from her throat and the weapon loosens in her grip and I plan on taking a step forward to relieve her of the weapon but then I see something that makes my heart beat faster and it ain't the drugs. Heero walks too quietly for her notice – many men have ended up dead due to that slow and steady walk, the walk of a man who grew up knowing how to kill. I need to keep her talking.

"Dallas is dead," she said. It ain't a question and I contemplate unzipping the Preventer jacket and showing her his blood. It's a cold hearted move and I don't. Even I'm not that much of a bastard.

"Yeah… sorry."

"You killed him?"

Ah, the ice queen had a heart, she trembles a little and I realise that maybe she did have feelings for Dallas but I realise that it probably wasn't a good thing to mention it. I was trying to keep her calm – trying to let Heero get close enough to relieve her of her weapon and disable her without killing her but she wipes a hand across her face quickly and points the gun with a more firm hand.

"Then I'll kill you."

"If Dallas couldn't… you think you stand a chance?"

Her eyes harden and I see a freaking scary determination as Heero approaches slowly. I try to give him a signal, meet those cold blue eyes and tell him to apprehend her, to snap that gun from her hands and disable her. There's a glimmer of understanding between us – in tune again, I guess, knowing how to act in a mission situation. Old times.

But it don't matter as suddenly there's a sound of a small explosion somewhere in the building that rocks us and the moment of panic startles her enough to fire without either of us anticipating it. Or we did. Just a second too late.

The shots fire and there's the sound of breaking glass around us. Multiple shots fired and it's difficult to tell what's happened until a splash of red begins to cover the front of that white blouse. She looks shocked and then begins to crumple and I feel something sharp in my own arm and I can't decide whether its glass or bullet fragments. She goes down and I meet cold blue eyes over her body and Heero stands there – gun raised and posture straight. If I'd been my usual awesome, funny self I'd have said something to Zee about  _that's_  how you hold a gun but I don't feel like my brain can function to that degree right now.

There's no question that it's a killer shot, through and through, and I slowly move my hand to the pain that's radiating from my right shoulder and I realise the moisture of my own blood through the thickness of the padded Preventer jacket – I was covered in so much of other people's blood that I don't really figure it for a second and I'm thinking that it ain't anything.

I stagger backwards and I figure that it's because I'm just not balanced, you know, right now but my back goes into the glass behind me that is already cracked and fragmented and it smashes with the weight of my body and I'm falling back into it. The shards cut but I don't notice that all too well as I feel pain radiating from my shoulder and pain radiating from my chest and I'm struggling to breathe and my heart squeezes again. Duh dum. Duh dum.

I raised my hand to where the pain was radiating from and then looked at it. My fingers were covered in blood, bright blood. There was glass embedded in my hand and it looked… strange. I stared at my fingers, the redness really bright and I lowered it again. I didn't have the strongest stomach for blood, I know, I'd seen and caused enough of it but damn it, I wasn't good with injuries… I wasn't Heero who could set his own leg, or Trowa who could perform stiches on himself just for shits and giggles. I raised my hand up again to see the red. And I was confused as I lowered it again. I was damn near confused at why I was laid down and I tried to move but my head started spin and I stopped.

For a few moments, I was staring at ceiling tiles and the light strips that weren't working and then there was a face above me and the sound of him moving around me, the glass being crushed under shoes.

"Duo…" he said, softly, and I wanted to say something witty and coherent and maybe, somewhere, a damn apology but that part of my brain had been bypassed.

Instead I just blinked my blurry eyes and manage to say two words.

"Been shot."

I feel hands and firm pressure on the wound but that pain there ain't anything compared to the erratic beating of my heart and the pain that seems to radiate down half my damn body. The tingles are weird and I can't breathe. My heart feels too big for my chest and I almost feel my eyes rolling back into the back of my head. I feel myself drifting and I'm barely conscious of anything – not the glass that I'm lying on, not the pain that radiates from my chest and the firm hands covering the bloody wound. I figure that the shot wound is the shock to my system that brings it all crashing down after taking those stupid pills…

"Duo – keep talking to me."

His voice is a command and it's his old mission sounding shit but I respond as my reaction to a bullet wound isn't usual considering it's not in a place that would usually be so life threatening.

"I… took something…"

I see in blue eyes a look of something I'm not sure how to define. It could be that he's pissed and that he wants to throttle me or it could be that he's just worried about what I took. What I did.

"Pocket."

I feel his hand and the movement of glass shards, the tinkling against the floor and the movement of finding the item. The touch is not unpleasant but I don't appreciate it. The pain in my chest doubles and I hear the groan, wince as though it'd come from someone else's lips and I'm starting to lose consciousness… I can feel it, damn it.

There's a noise, a low growl thing that I want to tell him is utterly adorable but I'm not, really, here you know and I gather he's discovered what I've taken. I don't know how knowledgeable he is about street drugs but I'm guessing he knows that they ain't doing me any good. I feel a hand on my face, gripping my jaw and moving my head, I hear glass being displaced by the movement of my braid and the words that come from his lips.

"Stay with me. Keep talking."

Words seem impossible and I guess he's torn. Totally torn. Stay with me here or leave, run and get help. There are no comms. He keeps pressure on the wound but I guess he figures that he's fucked. I want to reach out but that moment has sailed…

"What's your favourite colour?"

"…black…s'pose…."

"What's your favourite curse word?"

"…motherfucker…"

If I'd been more lucid I'd have remembered something. A quiet moment during the war. Repairing Deathscythe. And for some reason I was talking about my favourite curse words. I couldn't remember exactly why but I was in my priest outfit and Heero was in goddamn spandex and that tank top. I was talking to get him to pay attention. I didn't think he had. Damn, did he remember every stupid thing I said? I tried to open my eyes to see him but all I could see were sparks…

"Shit," I heard Heero say as I slipped out of consciousness.

Another voice joins his when I come 'round again and its weird, distorted.

"You can't move him, Heero! The paramedics are coming," I heard Quatre say in a kinda blurry way. It was like listening to a bad radio. I wondered when he got here. I wondered when other people arrived. I wondered what was happening and wondered if, hell, this is dying.

"He's going into shock."

"You don't have to save him all by yourself… Heero stop it! Moving him could kill him!"

"He's dying anyway."

I mumbled something as I felt my weight, my skinny weight, being lifted gently and then I don't really remember anything apart from blackness and strong arms.

 


	23. Run Away from Me, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song - Run Away - Silverstein (cover of Kayne West song)

**Chapter Twenty Three**

**Run Away from Me, Baby**

That slow rhythmic beating thing signalled that I was alive and the heart monitor was doing that real annoying noise - chirp, pause, chirp, pause. Fucking irritating. I opened my eyes feeling the gumminess of being unconscious and blinked a few times – the world blurred and then started to come into some kinda focus rather than being the fun carnival mirror shit it first seemed.

I knew I was in the hospital, yeah, being that I'm so smart and all, as I knew there was a heart monitor and a soft bed and the cloudy haze of drugs and the knowledge that there were tubes in places I really  _really_  didn't want to think about and the glare-y whiteness. I could tell that there had been a breathing tube down my throat - that raw scratchy feeling remained but thankfully the damn thing had gone. I kinda felt like I remembered it being taken out but seemed like a half memory from a dream or something.

Looking around the room, I knew this was a nice hospital – real nice and I was in my own fancy private room. There was no one here which kinda was a relief. You know, I didn't want to come 'round and be chewed out straight away, wanted a couple moments. Just a few.

Seemed my return to consciousness was noted by someone – the increased heart rate or something as a nurse appeared in blue scrubs and I looked at her with the usual hostility I had towards medical staff. It was a look that said – what have you done to me and what the fuck are you planning on doing to me? Hospitals are not a good place for slightly unstable ex-terrorists being that we'd all done our time being poked and prodded – and so not in a fun way. Being incapacitated is something I do not like and I fight it tooth and nail – as I would do now if I weren't so darn  _sleepy._

The nurse is young, mid-twenties I guess, her blond hair pulled back off her face and a pair of square geeky black glasses covering his eyes. She smiles a little as she comes over to check the bags and tubes and monitors. Ugh. Hate the indignity of being hospitalised – after all the shit I've been through – this is the worse. Mainly because of my poor wounded pride.

Probably figuring how dry my mouth feels and how chapped my lips are, she grabs a glass of water with a straw and offers it to me, letting me take a few sips before setting it back down.

"I win the bet," she said, smiling.

She gets two blinks in response and nearly a "what the fuck" but then all that comes out is a "huh?" I remember being told not to swear in front of young ladies and here, I didn't – Sister Helen would be so proud.

"We had a bet between the nurses about your eye colour."

Out of all the things she said, I was  _not_ expecting that.

"I had blue."

"How much do you win?" I asked, finally able to create a coherent sentence against chapped lips and a dry throat.

"Thirty."

"Cool."

"I'd offer to share but I'm sure a Preventer like you earns more than a lowly nurse."

I give her a little smile. "You nurses must run outta entertainment."

"We do when the patient's comatose," she said with a little wink. "I'm just going to change your IV."

I just lay my head back down fully into the softness of the pillows as holding a conversation seemed a little tricky right now as I'm totally weak and feel like I've been run over by a fucking Leo. I scan the room from my reclining position and I can see one Preventer jacket slung over a chair, old cardboard coffee cups and a few different newspapers all laid out. Someone at least was still around and the Preventer jacket made it evident which of the four people who'd actually stick around my unconscious ass was still in the hospital. Huh. He must have got a new one – I can't imagine there is a dry cleaner good enough to get out all my damn blood outta the one I borrowed.

"All done," she said cheerily. Probably happy about her thirty bucks. She saw my eyes drifting around the room – nurse was perceptive. "Ah… you want to know where ponytail or scary eyes are…"

I couldn't help the little chuckle though it damn hurt. "Ponytail and scary eyes?"

"Your two watchdogs."

Made sense. Heero and Wufei would be the ones to stick around the hospital, both partially feeling responsible to watch over my sorry carcass as they had some responsibility for the mission and me being here. But really, they didn't. They could never stop me from being, well, me.

"Where are they now?"

"Ponytail went for coffee. Scary eyes got sent to a hotel after staying here on watch every moment since you came out of surgery three days ago."

The words took a moment to process. Heero at a hotel made my stomach sink a little – I wanted to see him, like now, and that probably wasn't going to happen until I got chewed out by 'Fei. Zippe-de-fucking-do-dah.

"Three days?"

"You had a heart attack after taking a shot to the shoulder and your heart stopped beating. You had a pacemaker fitted."

A pacemaker? Jesus. Old dudes had pacemakers. Howard was gonna end up with a pacemaker one day as the Sweeper food sucked and was covered in grease and he liked old whisky too much. Me? No way. Doesn't make sense.

"I'm nineteen," I said, lamely.

Yeah, I'm nineteen and I  _so_  shouldn't have needed to have major heart surgery and have something small implanted into my damn heart to keep it beating but oh, yeah, I took some drugs and fucked myself up so, yeah, really had no argument for it.

"And you had a heart attack."

Damn. "And does that mean I have to live a life without junk food and booze and just, you know, fun?"

She gave a little laugh. "You'll have to ask the doctor that one."

The sound of approaching feet disturbs our little chat and the nurse turns to see one of my watchdogs. I think of keeping her in the room – using her as a human shield and protection against the onslaught I'm expecting – against a tirade of anger and annoyance and "what the hell were you thinking, Maxwell?" I want to grab the nurse by the wrist and beg her to stay so I do not have to talk to Wufei Chang right now but she starts to leave as his intimidation skills know no bounds.

"What's your name?" I asked, stalling her for like a few seconds.

"Oh, I'm Cassie, I'm on day shift."

"I'm Duo."

"Nice to meet you,  _Duo,_ " she said, winking at me.

She manages a sort of sexy sashay with her hips even in those unattractive nurse scrubs but that leaves me alone. And vulnerable. And unable to move. Fuck.

"Flirting with the nursing staff, Maxwell?"

"Passes the time, you know."

"Yuy may not view it so kindly."

"Yeah but he's the jealous type."

He walked over to the chair with the Preventer jacket on the back of it and took a seat. He looks damn tired, his arm still being held awkwardly despite not being in a sling anymore. I know I'm not a picture of health so I cut him some slack.

"How do you feel?" 'Fei asked.

"Like I've had a heart attack."

"Good since that's what happened."

"Are you pissed?"

"Pissed?"

"Yeah, pissed."

"Pissed is a bit mild. I'm angry. Yuy's angry. Barton and Winner are angry. Une's angry. You be glad you nearly died otherwise one or all of us may have killed you for your stupidity and recklessness."

"So Heero is…"

"Very angry with you…" his severe expression lightened ever so slightly. "But glad you are alive as we all are."

I had a little moment of "phew," maybe he'll forgive me, you know, for knocking him out and taking enough pills to stop my heart from working since I'm hooked up to god knows what – see I'm paying for my sins.

"The virus?"

"Contained."

"Preventer causalities?"

A hand went to the bridge of his nose and he glanced down at his own lap. He looked weary. Guess all that responsibility and shit made him feel old or something.

"Eighteen. A series of rigged explosions were placed at strategic points that exploded and killed agents. There were some injuries taking down the more… determined gang members. I believe you saw a few casualties yourself."

"Yeah," I said, remembering bloody corpses. "You get all the gang?"

"Some are dead, Dallas, one of the twins, some of the less experienced ones… others alive and were processed accordingly."

"Zee?"

"Dead. Yuy's methods are… flawless."

I nodded but knew that the statement was loaded. I wanted to talk to Heero – that was the coldest I'd seen him since… since the damn war and to be honest, it scared me. I didn't tell 'Fei. Didn't think he needed that bit of intel.

"Roth?"

"We lost him. We have no trace."

That thought was even more unsettling than thinking of cold, mission-centred Heero. We killed his little girl and I really don't think he's the kinda guy to let that go… I unconsciously shivered and felt the movement pull and tug at every wound and the gnawing pain in my chest. I'd done everything – given damn near everything and technically this was still a mission fail. I felt totally and utterly useless.

"Damn," I said, a weird unfamiliar sensation in my eyes. I was blaming the drugs and the fucking trauma of the last few days at the sudden filling of emotional crap and the sudden feeling of utter hopelessness.

It shocked me when I felt a hand on mine. "You did everything I could have asked of you. Quatre would be dead without your actions."

"Yeah but we didn't get Roth. We just killed his kid."

It just didn't sit right with me. Zee wasn't really the enemy. Just a fucked up chick with daddy issues.

"It was the right action at the time – it is all you can do."

His hand was still there and I looked from it, up to his eyes. The words caught in my throat. He'd been good to me, more than that, he'd had faith in me and saved me from myself. But… you know, I couldn't help the way I felt. He wasn't Heero. That's all it was.

"You know… in a different time and place," I said, finally.

I could say so much more than that – I should say so much more than that. Tell him that I'm a jerk and I didn't mean to ever make him feel that there could be something more between us but damn, I had nothing.

"I know," he said heavily. "I will always do the honourable thing by you."

His leant over me, his lips pressing against my forehead, I raised my uninjured arm to his face and held his cheek for a second. "You know we have a lot to work out, me and Heero, but you were the one who had faith in me. You'll always be important to me, you know."

He stood upright, his emotions under control once again, arms across his chest. "I understand… I see what Quatre always saw, you are the same – reckless, stupid, arrogant, fearless and loyal. You belong together."

I really don't know whether that is a compliment or not. I kinda think that it isn't but, hell, I'll take it as one in the current situation.

"Thanks 'Fei, for everything."

"I'll let you rest. I'll be here to debrief you in a few days with a Preventer psychologist."

I scowled. "I'll look forward to it," I said with all the sarcasm I could manage.

The hospital stay was as expected, I saw doctors who told me new limitations but that the pacemaker was the best damn piece of medical shit that could be bought – I wondered vaguely whether it was a Winner purchase or a Preventer one. I had to take it easy. It was humiliating being instructed about recuperation time and then told about things I shouldn't do and things I shouldn't eat and that I shouldn't have sex until I can walk fast without feeling the stinging sensation in my chest. I suppose, I had to take this like a fucking man – had to deal with the fact it was all my damn fault and listen to the docs for a change. They said six months is what they usually expect for someone to make a full recovery but, I guess, due to my young age and the fact I was generally, okay, not all the time, pretty physically fit that my recovery time might be shorter. Whatever, I had a lifetime of check-ups and a lifetime of a wicked scar down my chest and I just had to deal with it.

And I was. The one thing I wasn't dealing with was the total avoidance by Heero. Oh, yeah, he came to the hospital but it seemed reminiscent of that time after the Eve War all those years ago. I knew he was around. His scent lingered. His jacket would be there at times. And damn, I knew he was watching me if I shifted in my sleep but he was not here when I was conscious and I sure as hell didn't know how to take it. I was planning on taking it like a bitch and think that he was somehow regretting this – us, whatever was going on between us.

I thought about my own reactions when he was hospitalised. I avoided. I didn't deal. I was at the hospital but I didn't see him except when he was asleep. I just… I just couldn't see him like that. All those bandages, all that vulnerability – I didn't want a weak Heero, I wanted the super fucking star. I wondered if that was it for him. Hell, I never knew what went on in that thick skull and pretty much figured I never would so I just dealt. If he doesn't want me, if he realises I'm not worth the shit and the effort, if he wants to run away, I'd say it's the wisest move he could make, you know. Make his life a shitload easier if all this… was nothing.

I'd been allowed to be depressed for too long. Allowed to wallow in the hospital bed and gently begin to move around the room – began to have tubes removed and hallu-fucking-luia, allowed to use the bathroom and still he didn't show. Wufei was around. Quatre was around. Trowa even visited without Quatre and we sat for half an hour not talking – I couldn't hold up a one sided conversation and he just read one of the magazines that got left behind. I'd been debriefed, I'd officially announced my intention to retire – seriously, maybe I am an old dude in a young guy's body – retired and a pacemaker. And he still didn't stick around when I woke up.

Guess it took the usual Quatre intervention as he was in the damn doorway – all pale jeans and mussed hair and searching eyes. A duffle at his side. I didn't speak as he entered the room – wanted to say something sarcastic – wanted to make him feel guilty for taking this long to visit me when I was actually awake but he just walked over and dropped the duffle.

"Civilian clothes."

I'm about to do something that will make my doctors fucking pissed. I seriously want to do something strenuous, I want to grab him or punch him or just slam his face against a wall. Yeah, I wanted to do so much but I just look at him, mouth open and totally not getting this.

"I thought you'd want to get out."

"I'm recovering," I said, being stubborn. Oh yeah, he's arrived and dangling the one thing I would do anything for right now – freedom. From nurses, from blood samples, from indignity and physio appointments and I'm folding my arms across my chest and being generally pissy.

"Your chart says you're sufficiently recovered to move and recuperate outside a medical facility."

"You read my chart but you don't stick around to fucking talk to me."

"I didn't know what to say. You're easier to deal with when unconscious."

That kinda leaves me speechless. I cannot figure out if it's a joke or sincere. I could take it either way – because damn, I am probably so much easier to deal with unconscious as I'm quiet. No fighting back. Nothing confusing. If it's a joke then it's sorta cruel.

"Guess so."

"I heard the recording."

I nodded and avoided those piercing eyes. Declarations of love made while terrified I was about to die choking on my own blood – I now sure as hell didn't know what to say as this whole thing confused the hell outta me. I knew I felt something, I knew I needed him but the love thing was fucking scary and I hated how much of a pussy I was about it. I could say it again - say I think I loved him but, hell, I really didn't know what it meant and I didn't know if that's what he wanted.

"Yeah," I said, croakily.

He stepped further forward and his fingers reached out to my chest. The loose hospital gown meant that there was plenty of skin showing so that he pushed the material down to see the new scar – straight, stitched and still fresh looking.

"You should've died."

"I didn't."

His fingers touch the scarred flesh and his eyes are focused on the wound rather than my face. I can't read his expression.

"Do you hate me?" I asked, quietly, as fingertips touched it.

"No."

"I just thought you wouldn't let me go alone."

"It was stupid."

"Yeah… I kinda worked that out. I'm the one with the pacemaker."

It's a lame attempt at a joke. His expression doesn't change as his fingers drift to the other wounds, new scars from glass, from the bullet wound and I think of him pushing his hand down and stopping the bleeding. And him lifting my skinny ass and moving me. Saving me. I reached up and touched his jaw and that forced his eyes from where his fingers touched and to my face.

"This is where I apologise."

"That's not sorry."

"It's near as you're gonna get, Yuy, so suck it up. I don't regret shit. I did what I felt I had to."

The words were on the tip of my tongue. You never apologised for L3 X-18999. You never apologised for self-destructing. You never apologised for any of that heroic shit that nearly gave me a fucking heart attack. Oh, the irony when you've actually had one. We truly were some kinda match – not made in heaven or anything, made outta stubbornness and recklessness and a streak of self-sacrifice a mile long. I was not gonna apologise for who I am – never have to anybody and I will not do it to him. He can take me as I am, take all the shit or walk away.

"You have the choice, Heero. This is the last exit before it takes off or something. Run away from me."

He silences me, leaning down, my hand slips round the back of his head from his cheek and it's a gentle kiss. Hell, more gentle than we've ever managed. Maybe he's convinced I'll break as his lips touch mine and a tongue darts across my chapped lips. I open my mouth a little more, use his hair to pull on the back of his head indicating that I don't want to be treated like I'm made of glass – injured or not. He responds and I feel his hand move from the wound above my heart and down the sides of the thin hospital gown. I let him dominate, let his tongue twine with my own but let him control the intensity and let his hands roughly touch down my ribs, abs… lower. I'm fucking glad I'm not hooked up to a heart monitor as I feel the quickening of my pulse and the increase of my heart rate and as much as I want – damn I  _want_  – I pull back.

His kiss leaves me goddamn breathless. I'm like some fainting chick in an old book.

"You were meant to be breaking me outta here."

I want to make a joke about breaking outta hospitals, finally he's returning the favour after all these years, but I don't – instead, I get dressed and try not to be as stubborn and let him help me into clothes.

"We gotta a ride?"

"Yeah."

"I need to go somewhere first."

The break out ain't as dramatic – no jumping outta windows, instead, Heero instructs my Preventer guards that I'm going to the cafeteria and as I'm with him they don't doubt it. There was an intimidation factor to Heero Yuy and hell, the guards had figured out in the first few days who they were guarding. It didn't help that all five of us were around in various combinations and I had 24 hour security. Even with mine and Heero's records and identities expunged, a few smarter than the average agents had worked out that we were the five famous Gundam pilots. So when we walk past them, they kinda just let it ride – we'd timed it to the nurses' change of shift and we were in the elevator before anybody thought twice. We were outta the hospital before the alarm could get raised and I was sat in the passenger side of a rental car before any shit hit the fan.

The drive is short and Heero looks at me puzzled as he pulls the car up. I get out and look up at the fake sunlight, that bright fake sunlight and over the Conference Centre that looks like it always did. Broken glass and bullet holes and explosion burn patterns all gone. That's progress for you.

He follows as I walk towards the stone in Monument Park, the same business types milling around the green area – coffee breaks or smoke breaks or whatever. I think that we should just be gone already, that we should be at the shuttle port before the Preventers attempt to find us but Heero has already purchased tickets and scrambled data that would link it to us. He's already fucked with the facial recognition software – all counter measures for getting off L2 without being caught. Didn't want to deal with the consequences – just needed to be gone and didn't need the Preventer shit.

The stone looked like I remembered when I was here with Dallas. The words in sharp relief against the greyness.

The silent and nameless victims.

Solo. I'm sorry, buddy. Didn't get Roth this time but just wait…

His hand is on my shoulder, a light touch that says nothing about intimacy to normal people but everything to us. Heero never used to be someone who did unnecessary physical touching. I always thought during those first few fucks he was trying to maintain as little contact with me as possible, pulling out in a wham-bam-thank-you-mam kinda way straight afterwards, always backed away from kissing in those early days. You've come a long way, baby, I thought. I leaned a little back into him.

"Everyone I knew died. They got the virus. We were only, like, six, seven or something. Kids, you know. Couldn't afford the vaccine. Didn't matter if we died. Solo was, like, my idol. Died coughing up his own blood. And I thought… it was my fault. Didn't get the vaccination in time, you know."

I turned into him and his lips brush mine not giving a damn about the public setting. I suck at saying what I mean but I hope he gets it – this is why I did what I did. This was my revenge.

"Get me off this colony, 'Ro. Too many fucking memories."

 


	24. You'll Never Know Friends like These

**Chapter Twenty Four**

**You'll Never Know Friends like These**

"Fuck, shit, damn, motherfucker…"

I could hear the profanities in a continuous stream flying from my mouth. The damn engine was fucked. I'd thought some inventive patching up and work could save it, but instead I'd have to go for a full replacement. It would increase the cost of the whole revamp but I knew my client had deep pockets – I'd just have to send a revised invoice and explain that even my skills were beyond saving this piece of junk.

I squinted at the rusted piece of shit in front of me, my head looking closely as the mess that was beneath the hood of this stupid car. Yeah, it was a stupid car. I pushed my sweaty bangs out of my eyes, leaving engine oil across my forehead and whatever other shit was on my hands. The day was damned hot and that was not improving my anger at this inanimate object and me directing my most foul language at it.

"Are you hurt?"

Ow, shit. The sound of his voice was unexpected and from right behind me, it made me stand up quickly, too quickly and I found myself banging my head on the hood of the car.

"Shit, Heero, I swear I need to get a little bell to go 'round your neck, sometimes."

"Are you hurt?" he repeated, ignoring my little rant as I rubbed the top of my head with my grease covered fingers.

"I wasn't until you appeared. Ow, 'Ro, walk like a normal person."

He smiled slightly. "I'll try. Old habits."

"Hmm," I grabbed my rag but knew it wasn't going to do much good. I was covered in grease and it was ingrained in my hands and fingernails. "You working?"

"Yeah, I was. Until you distracted me."

I didn't ask anymore as I pulled down the hood of the car. We'd set up a simple life here. I ran what was called Noir Vintage Motors and Heero worked in IT security – we'd dropped off the grid with new identities and were in the middle of nowhere. We'd settled in a small town in the middle of North America – a town with a church, a coupla dive bars, convenience store and a grocery store on the edge of it. We were on the outskirts, it had been a fallen down gas station that we'd bought and turned into a garage and home. It wasn't much, but we'd worked our assess off, creating a store front where I could sell parts and see any clients who visited, an office for Heero to work in and me to occasionally do my accounts when forced, and then the garage. We'd lived on the floor above the office and storefront, created a one-room apartment. It was cosy, you know, but it was home.

The locals didn't seem really to notice us – I'd become useful I guess, as the town hadn't had a garage for years so I ended up doing some repairs but their business didn't matter. I worked on old cars or anything that was so old it was considered an antique. My clients tended to be old dudes or rich dudes. Or old and rich dudes. The word of mouth spread quickly in the retro car community and I found myself with more than enough jobs. In breaks between cars, I tinkered around on a sweet old motorbike when there was nothing else to do – Heero grumpily threatening to sabotage it as if I got it working he wouldn't trust me on it. Always seemed to think I was gonna kill myself – same old Heero.

He eyed me up, my black t-shirt did have a pattern of an old horror movie poster on it and it couldn't be seen, my khaki shorts were now actually black. The only part of me that wasn't covered in grease were my battered checkerboard Vans.

"Go get clean."

"Why? You worried I'm going to touch you and ruin your white t-shirt? Seriously, Heero, why do you still wear white around me, haven't you learned anything?"

I reached out, grabbing hold of his t-shirt underneath the collar and pulling him close. I met his lips but he was resisting me. He pulled back and looked down at what had been a crisp white v neck t-shirt. He looked hot in it. Now there was a black smudge and finger prints on the front. Hey, least feeling him up had got rid of most of the grease on my hands. For a second, he looked pissed.

"Duo," he said, his voice low.

"Yeah, babe?" I asked as innocently as I possibly could.

He put his hand at the back of my head, threading his fingers through my braid and pulled me close, his lips meeting mine forcefully this time. I kissed back, putting my hands where they damn well wanted to go – I ran them down his back, feeling his shoulder blades. He put his hand around my waist and used his body to push me back onto the car hood. His lips left mine for a second, his lips on my jaw and throat.

"Damn, didn't know you had a fantasy about in here…"

"Shut up."

"Make me," I said, challenging him, him capturing my lips again.

I could feel his hands going southward, glancing over my chest and abs, I groped his ass and could feel him smile against my lips.

The car hood felt warm against my back as he raised the t-shirt a little upwards and I hooked one leg around his waist to allow a little more friction. Hell, Heero may not have had a fantasy about fucking on a vintage car but I sure as hell did and this… yeah, this was kinda working out perfectly, I thought, as a hand had got to the waistband of my shorts. I could feel impatience in his movement and I threw my head back a little as fingers reached inside and fuck, if I'd only been half hard from the kiss, then his touch and that tug on my cock had worked.

"You're overdressed," I said, as he moved from my lips and started licking at the sweat on my neck.

"So are you."

I almost fucking whined when he removed his hand but realised it was only to remove that stupid white t-shirt and I was fine with that – I moved to throw off my own and then our chests were bare and that was good enough for now but I wanted to play too… his lips returned to mine and I teased at the button and zipper of his jeans, carefully moving the metal down around his hard dick. Every part of my fantasy was kinda working right now as my hand moved past boxers and I ran the pad of my thumb over the slit to feel the pre-cum there. I thought about moving off the car and sucking him off, like, right now as he made that moan thing in the back of his throat that was a total turn on and I wanted to hear more of  _that_ but the whole thing was enough of a turn on. I was gonna lose it soon if we didn't go further now. I was about to make my complaint, about to wriggle outta shorts and find some lubricant in this stupid garage that wasn't intended for car engines when a sound broke through the damn haze of lust.

"Fuck."

The bell, the tinkling little bell of the storefront. Heero moved and pushed himself up on his hands, breaking contact between our chests and also removing his hand from where I goddamn needed touching. He broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

"You should get that."

"No fucking way, Yuy. We finish this."

He just smirked the most fucking evil smirk I've ever seen and leaned down to kiss me, hard, while removing my hand from his erection. I have no concept of how he can do that. Someone is hot, hard and horny for you and giving you a goddamn hand job and he manages to remove my hand as though he ain't interested.

"We'll finish this later," he said.

His body leaves me and he's reaching for his white t-shirt and though he's still hard, he's adjusting boxers and jeans. I think my expression is one that a million guys have given a million chicks – you do that to me and then you fucking back out? And of course, he can do that – Mr. Motherfucking Control.

I'm left sprawled on the car hood, hard, hot and totally wanting to be fucked and that stupid little bell on front desk rings. Damn, he was still so Perfect Soldier, he could control his body whereas I needed a cold shower. Think unsexy thoughts. I grab for my t-shirt and think about every chick I'd never want to see naked and I'm starting to feel ever so less turned on. Still turned on but less… obviously so. I zip up my shorts and it ain't massively painful but not what I wanted. So didn't want to be in clothes right now.

"Damn, insistent asshole."

"You shouldn't be so good," he said and I'm really not sure whether he's commending my sexual talents or my ability to fix cars – right now I just want to punch his smug face. Always knows what he does to me with just a little look and a small touch.

I put my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself remotely presentable. I got to my feet, composure back a little. "How do I look?"

"Like a grease monkey."

"Is that some kind of joke?"

"I don't do jokes."

I just shake my head and stopped my mind from thinking dirty thoughts and left the garage – the storefront was small and full of shelves of random scrap parts I'd accumulated that may or may not come in handy later. It would've been where they sold the snacks – I sold the occasional part but it wasn't the main source of the business.

"Hey… sorry for the wait, I was in the middle of an engine repair…" I said as I walked through the door, wiping my hands some more. And then I stopped.

"I don't think a little longer matters," said a really familiar voice.

I looked straight into baby blue eyes.

"I guess not…"

The counter was between us and I didn't move the distance between us. There was a certain awkwardness. We'd disappeared without telling anyone – technically, I was still healing from having a fucking heart attack and should've spent more time in recovery but we'd just left. And we'd covered our tracks and made it so we weren't easily found. We could be found, you know, but it wasn't easy.

I acknowledged Trowa, nodding in his direction, but he was pretending to ignore the situation and look at some of the parts. He was a machines man too – scraps and bits of engines probably interested him.

"You didn't hide as well this time, Duo, you were easy to find."

"We left a trail… if anyone wanted to find us."

He nodded, his eyes ranging over my dishevelled appearance. "You look good."

"Yeah, I am somewhere hidden behind this engine grease."

"No, I mean you look happy and… healthier."

"Guess I am."

"I came… to bring this," he said, producing an envelope from his chino pocket and handing it over. "Your final Preventer pay cheque. Wufei wanted to make sure you got it."

"Why didn't he come himself?"

"I think he fears he may not be welcome," he said, his eyes focusing behind me and I knew Heero was behind me. His hand had slipped to the small of my back in some kind of moment of reassurance.

"You know Heero doesn't kill people anymore," I said. "Do you, babe?"

"Only when necessary."

I rolled my eyes and looked in the envelope surprised to find cash. A lot of cash.

"Cash?"

"Wufei didn't want the funds to be traceable, he wanted you to avoid the scrutiny of the Preventers and have the life you wanted."

I looked at the notes and I briefly felt an unwanted stinging in my eyes. Damn him, still doing the honourable thing. I thought about that kiss on my forehead. Heero's hand shifted so that it was around my waist, some kind of protective thing, I guess.

"I don't want it… you take it Quatre, use it on the L2 Project, name a school after me or some shit."

"Duo… this is a lot of money, it would last you years."

"I don't need it, we've got enough."

Trowa had finished ignoring the conversation, coming closer to his lover. Heero acknowledge him in some kind of silent way. Never understood them. They'd always got on well, always connected as friends but never said a word, go figure.

"I think we should go, I think us visiting could attract unwanted attention and you seem to have set up a good life."

He made a motion towards Trowa in some kinda silent communication proper couples did. Me and Heero so weren't there but you could see that's what nearly five years together did. It was kinda sweet that they didn't need words. We were still figuring out how to share space and not bitch at each other all the time. Huh.

"Q, don't leave, we have a really tiny apartment and neither of us know how to cook properly but there's beer."

Quat glances at Trowa who nodded just a tiny bit and that's the decision. Cute.

"I'll lock the shop up, Heero – you wanna show them upstairs?"

He gestured towards Trowa whose eyes were appraising his t-shirt and his jeans. Least his jeans were dark denim and no greasy handprints. It kinda looked pretty obvious what we'd been doing moments before they arrived. Hell, least the emotional shit had managed to remove the horny tension going on between us.

"Repairing a car engine?" Trowa said, a teasing tone in his voice directed towards Heero.

"I've only ever found one way to shut him up."

Quatre watched them walk away together and me turn the sign over and lock the door. He leaned against the counter and I hopped up onto it, dangling my legs.

"This was what you wanted," he said, looking round the store and all the random innards from engines.

"It don't look like much but yeah, this was what I wanted. Guess it just took me a while to figure it out, you know. I wasn't ready for it when you offered, Q."

He turned to look at me and his eyes studied the ink on my arm. "I never saw them fully. They really are quite impressive."

"Yeah and here you are…" I gestured towards a piece on the inner side of my lower arm. The shotols. The crossed weapons of Sandrock. I'd never pointed it out and I guess he'd never looked too hard.

I think I saw a lump in his throat develop and when he spoke it sounded a little rough. "We should join them – they don't know how to communicate without us," he said.

"Yeah, after you, Q."


End file.
